What Started with a Spark
by endlesspath
Summary: Every story has a beginning. As Elle leaves evidence of her passing across Cork, The Company send an agent over to clean up the mess. Spoilers for Season Two. PeterElleOC COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, just the characters I made up.**

* * *

Dean Matthews leaned back in his chair and looked around the dusty rest-stop with calculating eyes. He had been following his target all across Mexico. He had seen him join three other travellers and then murder one of them only hours later. He was dangerous and it was his assignment to detain him.

His target and his new travelling buddies had stopped here barely half an hour ago. Dean expected them to move on soon, especially with the border being only a few hours drive away. So far they had never stayed in one place for more then an hour. He didn't expect them to change their pattern now.

Dean's eyes fell on his target. He was sitting near the rest-stop's exit along with his two companions. He didn't know much about the two of them, they had found his target lying in the middle of the road, almost dead from dehydration and exhaustion. And like good little Samaritans, they had helped him and taken him along, completely oblivious to what Sylar was.

Dean had seriously considered letting Sylar die on that road, especially after what he did to Candice. He had never liked her, but she didn't deserve to have her head ripped open and brain removed. But he was on strict orders, he had to keep Sylar alive and bring him back to The Company. He was only allowed to kill Sylar on one condition and that was if Sylar's power's returned and he started killing spree again. And even then he had to do everything he could to detain him before he could even attempt to kill him.

He had seen a wanted poster of the two Honduran's while he was stalking Sylar, the twins: Maya and Alejandro Herrera. He had immediately torn that poster down and destroyed it. He couldn't have any of the Mexican Authorities interfering with his assignment. They would arrest Sylar for travelling with the twins. If that happened, Dean would be forced into stopping the arrest, revealing to everyone what he was.

Dean ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He would have normally enjoyed a trip down to Mexico, especially because of the chance to get away from those stuck-up snobs at The Company. But he was having no such luck. Ever since he began this assignment, he was being checked up on frequently. Ever since they lost that isotope satellite and the little girl who could find people, The Company was becoming even more paranoid of the specials who worked for them--especially if the special was without a _normal_ partner.

As if in direct response to Dean's thoughts, his cell-phone began to ring in his jeans pocket. Dean pulled out the ringing phone and looked at the caller ID. He groaned when Bob's name appeared on the small screen. He hadn't been contacted since before Sylar had passed out on the road. He had hoped that The Company had finally started to trust him. He at least thought that Bob would understand.

Dean sighed in anticipation and flipped open his cell phone. "What?" He asked, holding the phone to his ear and waiting for his boss to answer.

"How are things in Mexico?" Bob asked in his completely slow, clear voice. This only served to annoy Dean. Bob knew how much Dean hated being interrupted on an assignment.

"Things have changed since you last called to check up on me." Dean replied, his irritation clearly present in his voice. "Sylar has been moving faster now. He was picked up by two Hondurans and this American guy. He killed the American a bit later."

"Why didn't you stop him?" Bob asked.

"He didn't use his powers, so there was no reason to interfere."

"You could have saved a life."

"It would only have hindered the assignment."

Dean could hear Bob sigh through the phone. "I didn't call to talk about your morality." Bob said. "I called to talk about the assignment."

"It's going fine." Dean said quickly. "I'll bring Sylar back to The Company. Hopefully this time you'll actually keep a hold on him."

"That's not what this is about." Bob said.

Dean smiled, if he closed his eyes he could almost see Bob's mask of control crack at his comment. Bob had been furious when he heard that Primatech had let Sylar escape. "Well, what's it about then."

"We're sending a team to finish your assignment." Bob said. "We need you elsewhere."

Dean swung forward in his chair, his look of mere irritation immediately growing into anger. "What? It's my assignment, Bob. I've been following him all across Mexico ever since Candice- Michelle- Whatever her name was died. You can't just expect me to give it over to someone else!"

"I expect you to follow orders." Bob said. "And you're being given another assignment. A _personal _one."

"So, send that other team to do it!"

'We want you to do it. You're one of our most capable agents."

"I don't care; I'm not going to--!"

"It's Elle." Bob cut in.

Dean paused as sudden understanding filled his body, his anger fading into nothingness. "Oh, great. What'd she do this time?"

"She made a mess in Ireland. I want you there to clean it up."

Dean stood up, walking out from his table. No-one in the bar appeared to have heard his conversation with Bob. He was lucky Sylar hadn't either. It would make things harder for the team coming to take over. The last thing The Company needed was Sylar finding out that he was being followed. "Okay," Dean said, "I'll get there as quickly as I can."

"Good man." Bob replied. "Go to Cork, we'll contact you with further instructions when you get there."

Dean flipped the phone shut and deposited it back inside his pocket. He sighed and made his way through the rest-stop, heading towards the door. He paused when he reached the door, looking back to glare at the back of Sylar's head. All he wanted to do was kill this monster here and now. He knew many people had tried, but like a true parasite Sylar kept squirming out, living to kill again.

The female twin – Maya, he thought her name was – saw the look of hatred on his face straightened in her chair. Dean met her eyes and grinned at her as he walked out the door. When Sylar and Alejandro turned to follow Maya's gaze, Dean was already gone.

He walked towards his car, pulling out his keys from another pocket. He unlocked the car and climbed in. His face was set with determination as he drove away from the dusty, back-water rest-stop and into the falling sun. He didn't know what to expect in Ireland. But one thing was certain. He had work to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Elle stared out of the car's window, watching the pouring rain pummel the windows and the surrounding street. She was still angry over her father removing her from the assignment. She didn't understand what the problem was. That guy she killed wasn't important, killing him hadn't jeopardized the assignment. He had lied to her and had paid the price. It was as simple as that.

She slumped back in the driver's seat and rested her chin in her hand. The Company would send someone over to clean up the mess she had made. A janitor, probably someone they wanted out of the way for a little while. That was always the way things went in The Company, if you got in the way you could find yourself in the middle of Africa searching for a hermit--or something like that.

Her eyes gleamed as lightning flashed across the sky. A smile broke out on her face as she held out her palm. She watched as blue sparks began to dance erratically across her hand. Barely a handful of people knew what it was like to be able to control lightning. Besides herself, she only knew of two empaths who could wield electricity. One of them was Peter Petrelli, the other... Another flash of lightning streaked through the sky, followed by a boom of thunder.

Elle started her car and began to drive. The windscreen wipers worked furiously tying to clear the screen. Elle's smile faded and was replaced by a look of deep thought. She would drive past that pub quickly, on the off chance that Peter had turned up there since she had killed that guy.

Her face fell in disappointment as she drove past. The pub's doors had been forced open and the lights switched on. But she could only see this black guy, kneeling beside the charred corpse; nothing worth going out into the pouring rain for. She hated rain.

She fell into deep thought again as she continued to drive. Things would get more difficult now. Peter probably knew that he was being searched for. And the cops might even get involved. Not to mention the agent The Company had probably already contacted. She would have to tread carefully now.

Elle was so caught up in her thoughts and trying to peer through the bucketing rain. She failed to notice another car speeding past her own. She failed to see it screech to a halt next to the pub's entrance and she failed to see two figures jump out of the car and rush inside.

* * *

Dean nodded to the security guard as he slid his ID card through the Hartsdale office's front doors. He had been contacted again, barely an hour after he had left that rest-stop in Mexico. He had been ordered to stop by Hartsdale office before he went to Ireland. He didn't really mind that. For a moment he thought that Bob had called to tell him that he didn't need to go to Cork and that he could go back to his previous assignment. Dean probably would have carried on to New York and throttled Bob if that had happened.

Dean had driven to Primatech and dropped off his car, before catching a flight to New York. He had been told to get to there as fast as possible and that's what he had done. He was almost looking forward to the long flight to Ireland, just so he could sleep the entire way.

He froze suddenly as a thought struck him. He had no idea what floor Bob was on. It was too early for the receptionist to be in yet. "Hey." Dean said, turning around to face the security guard. "Do you know what floor Bob's on?"

The security guard looked at him and nodded. "Yeah, the boss said that when you showed up I was to send you to the lab."

"Thanks man." Dean said as he turned back around and started towards the elevator. He moved in a light jog, closing the distance towards the elevator quickly. He skidded to a halt and punched in his security clearance.

He grinned as the elevator's doors slid open. He was starting to grow more eager about starting this assignment. He had thought about it on his way here. It must be pretty serious if The Company was willing to pull someone off an assignment as high up as stalking Sylar.

He watched his reflection in the elevator door's as it moved upwards. It had been over a day since he had slept and it showed on his appearance. Bags were clearly visible under his eyes. He had tanned up a bit in Mexico though and that had done something to hide his exhaustion from his features. He was glad for that, it was best if you didn't show the slightest bit of weakness in front of The Company's leaders. They would eventually use it against you.

The elevator slowed to a halt and the double doors opened wide, cutting his reflection in half. He stepped through, walking into The Company's lab. He looked around as he walked, it had been a while since he was last in here but he immediately noticed that there were several new patients.

He stopped suddenly in front of one of the rooms, his stomach churning uncomfortably as he thought he recognised its occupant. The woman inside had rolled over in her sleep, revealing blonde hair and pale skin. He looked at the name on the front of the door, seeking to confirm that his fears were unfounded. His tension eased as he read the name softly to himself. "Niki Sanders." For a moment he had thought it was Elle lying unconscious and restrained in that bed.

He turned away from the room, his heart thumping loudly in his chest after his scare. He carried on through the corridors, heading towards the sitting area. He read some of the other names on the various rooms he passed. Monica Dawson, Molly Walker. He didn't recognise either of them.

He rounded a corner and immediately caught sight of Bob. He was speaking to an Indian man. The two were speaking in undertones, careful not to let anyone hear their words. As he approached he managed to hear part of their whispered conversation.

"You can't be serious about this?!" The Indian man was whispering angrily. "It could be a massacre, if the virus--"

Bob cut him off as he finally noticed Dean drawing closer. "Ah, Mr. Matthews." He said loudly. "I've been expecting you."

Dean smiled slightly as he watched Bob try to lie about the snippet of conversation that had obviously been heard.

"Dr. Suresh and I were just talking about our young patient, Molly Walker. She suffers from a terrible virus, we're doing everything we can to neutralise it."

Dean's smile widened in amusement, he didn't know why Bob was even bothering to lie to him. "Right, well I don't think you called me all the way here to talk about a virus."

Bob nodded and gestured at Dr. Suresh. "Dean, this is Dr. Mohinder Suresh, he's a geneticist working with us; the newest member of the family, so to speak."

Dr. Suresh held out his hand and said. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Matthews."

Dean eyed the offered hand before placing his own hands firmly behind his back. "No, just Dean."

Dr. Suresh seemed slightly surprised at Dean's refusal to shake hands, but that look quickly faded as he withdrew his outstretched hand. "I've been hoping to meet other members of The Company." Dr. Suresh said, his tone filled with interest and curiosity. "Especially those with abilities, I should very much like to see what you can do someday."

"All in good time, Doctor." Bob said, preventing Dean from answering. "Now, I need a private word with Mr. Matthews here. Why don't you check on Miss Sanders? We don't want another incident on our hands."

Dr. Suresh nodded and walked past Dean, heading through the corridor, straight towards Niki's room. Dean noticed a rebellious look flicker across Dr. Suresh's face. Dean smiled in amusement; it looked as though it wasn't one big happy family after all.

Bob watched Dr. Suresh's path towards Niki's room, only beginning to speak when he was sure that he wouldn't be heard. "There's a serious problem over in Ireland." Bob said in a quiet voice.

Dean frowned. He could almost feel the urgency radiating from Bob's voice. This was a surprise to him; he had always known Bob to be calm and completely in control, never losing his cool in the most serious of situations. "I know, Elle did something while she was over there; something so in need of attention that you had to pull me away from my assignment. Which, I might add, you already did when you pulled me off hunting down that pyro to follow Sylar."

"Meredith Gordon has been taken care of and Sylar isn't an immediate threat so long as he's powerless--"

"I'm sure Candice would disagree." Dean grinned.

Bob went on as though Dean hadn't spoken. "Elle acted without thinking of the consequences, so now we need you clean up after her."

"What'd she do?"

"She killed a man over there."

Dean snorted. "So? She's killed before. I don't see what the big deal is."

"The big deal?" Bob said angrily. "The big deal is that she incinerated him with her power, all that was left of her victim was a charred corpse. She jeopardized her entire assignment. She may even cause the police to find out about us and what some of us are capable of."

"She barbequed someone?" Dean asked sceptically. "Doesn't surprise me. She's always been shoot first, ask questions later."

"I know, Dean. And that's why I want you there to clean up the mess she made and take care of anyone who's looking for her."

Dean carried on, thinking out loud, completely ignoring Bob. "If Elle did do that; the assignment she was on would have been pretty important to her. You better not have pulled her off; she won't give upon it just because she's been ordered to."

"Are you even listening?" Bob said, raising his voice.

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry." Dean said quickly. "Just thinking out loud."

"As I said, we need you there to clean up the mess. You know how she thinks; it will be easier for you to track her path. We need it done quickly and expertly, before anyone starts asking potentially dangerous questions."

"Okay." Dean said simply. "I'll be on the first flight to Cork."

"We have a plane waiting to take you straight there." Bob began, a relieved smile beginning to form on his face. "You'll be contacted when you arrive there, hopefully we'll have intel that can point you in the right--"

Bob cut off as a cry of fury echoed from down the corridor. Dean spun around, startled at the sudden, unexpected noise. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as the door to Niki's room was kicked off its hinges. It flew through the air and shattered against the opposing wall.

Niki stepped through the doorway. The remains of her restraints were hanging from her body, torn as if they were made from paper. Niki looked up and down the corridor. When her eyes focused on Bob, a malicious grin formed on her face. She began to walk slowly towards them, her intentions clearly written across her featues.

Dean watched as Dr. Suresh ran out through the broken doorway, a taser held tightly in his hand. Dean looked on in amazement as Niki half-turned and tore the taser out of Dr. Suresh's hand. Without missing a step she squeezed her fist, shattering the taser into tiny pieces.

Dean stepped in front of Bob, placing his body between this incredibly strong woman and her target.

Niki's eyes narrowed. She lengthened her stride, advancing towards them. Dean knew that she would willingly tear him apart to get to Bob.

He raised his hand, flexing his fingers in anticipation.

Dean heard Bob's voice shout, trying to warn him. "Don't kill her, Dean!"

Bob's warning barely registered with him. He was staring into Niki's eyes, seeing past the anger and hate. Dean saw the helpless and desperate woman inside. And that was what held him back.

Blue electricity flashed, erupting from Dean's palm in a rush of sparks and energy. The ball collided with Niki's chest, blowing her back. She hit the ground and slid across the polished floor, finally coming to a stop just short of the entrance to her room.

Dean breathed out heavily, the blue sparks of electricity fading from his hand. He lowered his arm slowly. His eyes were focused on Niki's unmoving body.

Dr. Suresh fell to his knees beside Niki, his fingers pressing lightly on her neck, checking for signs of a pulse. "She's alive." He exclaimed, removing his fingers from her neck. "We'll need to run tests, there's no telling what damage that bolt could have done."

Dean walked forward. He stepped over Niki's unconscious body, unfazed by what he had done. "I'll find her." He said, turning back to look at Bob. He ignored the angry and amazed looks directed at him. He had long grown used to that. People feared what they didn't understand. It was a fact of life.

* * *

Mohinder Suresh sat beside Niki's bed; trying to focus his thoughts long enough to read her chart. But no matter how hard he concentrated, his mind always drifted back to Dean and his display of power. Mohinder had seen many different things since he had picked up where his father left off, but he still had trouble believing in them.

Mohinder just couldn't wrap his head around it. How could a person shoot electricity? Then again, how could someone tear through a full set of restraints? He would have loved to study Dean, but Bob had said that he was needed elsewhere.

"How's she doing?" Bob asked as he walked into the room.

"Fine." Mohinder answered, shrugging his shoulders. "She'll be fine. There's no damage to her body, none at all."

Bob nodded in satisfaction. "That will be Dean; he wasn't trying to kill her."

"So, he can manipulate electricity?" Mohinder asked, seeking confirmation for the fact, even though the answer was already clear in his mind.

"At the moment, yes." Bob answered, sitting down in an unoccupied seat.

"What do you mean 'at the moment'?" Mohinder inquired curiously.

"Dean is an empath." Bob answered after a moment of hesitation. "Unlike Peter Petrelli though, Dean's ability is restricted. For example, he can only acquire other's abilities by touch."

"So that's why he doesn't shake hands?" Mohinder asked. "He doesn't want to risk gaining a new power?"

"Yes and no…" Bob said. He looked up at the ceiling as he tried to think of the right words. "You see…Dean can only handle one power at a time. If he absorbs another…he loses his previous one."

Mohinder nodded. "So, if he absorbs a new one, can he instantly control it?"

Bob shook his head. "No. In fact, he begins with even less control then his benefactor originally did. That's one of the reasons why when we do figure out how to eliminate abilities with the virus, he'll be one of the first people we use it on."

"And the other reasons?" Mohinder asked.

Bob smiled. "He flaunts his power and he kills without a second thought. He's too dangerous to be trusted. You saw what he did to Niki. Imagine if he used more of his power. Niki would be electrocuted beyond recognition."

Bob looked at the surprised look on Mohinder's face and continued. "He and one of our other agents – the girl who he obtained his electric manipulation from – are both like that. They both kill and feel no remorse or sympathy. It makes them good agents, but also incredibly dangerous, and untrustworthy. It has been unanimously agreed that both of them will be cut from The Company and given the virus."

"If they're as dangerous as you say they are." Mohinder said. "If they find out what you plan for them, they'll kill you."

"Then they can't find out." Bob said calmly.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean shivered and buttoned up his coat as he stepped out of The Company's private plane and into the cold air of Cork. The plane's pilot had told him that he had been ordered to wait for him to finish before he flew out of Cork. He placed his hands deep into his pockets and tried to stop his teeth from chattering. He should have known that the rapid change of temperature would affect him like this. Barely a day ago he had been in the stifling Mexican sun and now he was in nearly sub-zero temperatures.

He shook his head slightly and breathed out white plumes of air from his lungs. There was no point wasting time complaining about things you can't do anything about. He was glad that The Company had given him a heavy coat on the plane. He thought it gave him an aura of seriousness and danger about him. It was worth putting up with the cold.

As he walked, Dean looked around the crowded airport. People were checking in for their flights or departing from the airport. The result was a swirling mass of jostling people pulling their baggage behind them. Dean noticed that every single one of them seemed completely oblivious to the cold.

He stopped in front of the departure's board, examining the various times as he pulled his cell-phone out of his pocket. None of it was very interesting. There were several flights to London and Paris leaving in the next couple of hours; a flight to Montreal leaving later this afternoon and a late night flight to Los Angeles.

He looked down at his cell-phone's keypad and began to dial Bob's number. He couldn't be bothered waiting to be contacted. It would be a while before The Company contacted him, even longer if they found something to distract them.

He smiled when he heard Bob's irritated voice through the phone. "We said we'd contact you, Dean; not the other way around."

"Yeah, well I didn't want to wait around for you." Dean answered. "So, what new info were you gonna give me when I got here?"

"We don't have it yet, that's why we were going to contact you." Bob said stressfully.

Dean frowned. He wondered if Bob had actually found something to distract him. "So I'm basically on my own."

"Yes. I'm sorry but I have to go, I left a little gift for you in your coat. Contact me if you encounter any problems over there."

Dean flipped his phone shut and pushed it back into his coat pocket. He wondered what the little gift was. He reached inside his coat, feeling for the inner pocket. A smile broke across his face as his fingers brushed cool metal. He pulled it out and held it out in front of him. He'd lost his necklace about four months ago. He felt the length of black cord connected to the silver helix. He lowered his head slightly as he hung his necklace back in its proper place.

Dean sighed and cast another look around the airport. He had a lot to do now and he had to do it with absolutely no Company help. All the information he had was that Elle had killed someone. He didn't know who it was or even where she had killed him.

He spotted a bored looking girl at an information desk, she had her chin cupped in her hand and was staring off into the distance with a dreamy expression on her face. Dean smiled and walked up to her. "Hi, I'm sorta lost can you--" Dean cut off as the girl continued to stare into space. He didn't even think that she had heard him. He waved his hand in front of her face. "Ah, hello?"

The girl straightened suddenly in her chair, gasping in surprise. "Oh, I am so sorry." She stammered hastily. "I didn't even realise- I knew I shouldn't have drank that much last night- Sorry again, a bit inappropriate- So, ah, what can I do for you?"

Dean just stared at her, his mouth slightly open. He was taken-aback at the sudden onslaught of words that rushed out of the girl's mouth. "Ah, yeah." He said, his jaw finally loosening. He laughed embarrassingly and continued to speak. "I'm kinda lost; I got here a couple of hours ago with a few friends. We were gonna check out this weird killing thing we heard of. I went to the restroom and they sorta left without me."

"And you want to know where the murder was so you can catch up to them, right?" The girl finished.

Dean smiled winningly. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble."

The girl shook her head, her hair flapping about her face. "No, no, not at all; truth be told, that's what everyone's been talking about lately…I like your necklace."

Dean's smile grew as he fingered his silver necklace softly. "Thanks. But anyway, I heard that the murder was pretty weird." He was mentally kicking himself. If he was reading this girl right; the news that he was asking about the murder would soon be all over Cork.

"Well, it was." The girl said, leaning forward in her eagerness to talk. "I mean, the guy was practically burnt to a crisp. The police don't know what to think."

"What was his name?" Dean asked, leaning in closer to the girl.

The girl giggled slightly and replied. "Ricky McKenna, I think. He owned this pub called The Wandering Rocks."

Dean straightened and began to walk away. "Thanks." He said over his shoulder. "I've gotta catch up to my friends."

"Hey, wait." The girl called after him. "I've got more."

Dean paused in mid-step, he considered carrying on and leaving, but his desire for information made him turn around and walk back. "What else?"

The girl smiled and leaned forward even closer. "Well…"

* * *

Dean opened the taxi door and climbed out, handing the cabdriver his payment through the window. It had taken him a while to get away from the girls non-stop chatter. All of the information he had been given from her was simply fabricated gossip. He had taken his chance to get away when she was called over to deal with some real lost tourists. And now he was finally here; outside The Wandering Rocks.

His coat whipped about him as a cool wind swept through the streets. He looked up and down the street, running a hand through his hair. He knew that if he stepped into that pub, he might have to kill. He didn't have a problem with that; he had lost his discomfort with killing long ago.

He sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the door to the pub. He stepped through, immediately feeling the comforting warmth of the fire. He glanced around as he shut the door behind him. There were only two other people in the pub; a man and a woman. Neither of them had noticed his entrance, both too engrossed with their conversation to look up.

Dean took a few steps forward and cleared his throat loudly, immediately attracting the attention of both of them. The woman stood up and said with a heavy Irish accent. "Sorry, we're closed."

"Oh." Dean said, holding up his hands apologetically. "It's just I've been asking around and I heard that you might be able to help me find someone."

The woman opened her mouth to speak. Dean could almost hear the impending denial. Her eyes fell on his necklace and flashed with recognition. She shot a quick glance at the man still sitting at the bar and said. "I don't know what we can do to help; you might want to go to the dockyards. They gossip like little girls down there."

Dean laughed. "Maybe I will, but since I'm here."

The woman shrugged and walked around the counter. "You want anything to drink?" She asked.

Dean thought for a moment. "Ah, yeah, just whatever you've got on tap."

The woman nodded and directed a glance at the man sitting across from her. "What about you, Peter?"

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, thanks."

Dean frowned slightly; he would have expected Peter to have the same heavy accent as everyone else, but it was immediately obvious that he was a newcomer to Cork. He sat down a couple of seats away from Peter and said. "I'm Dean."

The woman nodded in acknowledgment and replied. "I'm Caitlin. And that's Peter over there." She nodded her head in Peter's direction and placed a glass full of beer in front of Dean.

Dean raised the glass to her in thanks and took a long sip of the brew.

"So, you said you were looking for someone?" Peter asked, thanking Caitlin for his own drink.

"Yeah." Dean replied, placing his glass back on top of the bar. "A woman, she would have shown up sometime yesterday. Would have probably turned a few heads."

"As I said before," Caitlin interrupted, "you'll have better luck asking around at the dock, someone there would know something about the girl you're looking for."

"Oh, I don't doubt it." Dean said. "But I think she may have turned up here, she's always wanted to go to an Irish pub."

Dean watched as Peter's eyes fell on his necklace. The same glimmer of recognition flickered across his eyes. "What makes you think she would turn up here? There are dozens of other pubs in Cork."

Dean shrugged. "Just call it a feeling."

"Well, I don't really know what to tell you." Peter said, lounging back in his chair comfortably. "The only thing I've heard is what this drunk was blabbering on about around the docks."

Dean frowned and looked between Peter and Caitlin. Peter's face was filled with grim certainty; while Caitlin's seemed a squall of mixed emotions. _Well, they're hiding something. She was definitely here, I know it. _Dean thought as he drained the rest of his beer from his glass. He noticed Peter's face turn from absolute certainty to surprise, with apparently no trigger. Dean dismissed it as trivial. He would have better luck at the docks then here.

"Thanks for the drink." Dean said, placing some money next to his empty glass. "I guess I will check out the dockyards."

He stood up and walked back to the door. He stared at the lock, it looked like it had been smoldered and then snapped forcibly in two. _Yeah, she was definitely here._ Dean thought as he raised a hand in farewell to Peter and Caitlin. He pulled his coat tighter about him as he stepped out of the warmth and back into the cold wind.

* * *

"_Well, they're hiding something. She was definitely here, I know it."_ The unspoken words struck Peter like a hammer. This man knew about the girl who killed Ricky. Peter knew that his surprise was clear on his face. Judging by the way Dean looked at him; he had seen it and may have even guessed the reason behind it.

"Thanks for the drink." Dean said. Peter watched with wary eyes as Dean placed his payment on the counter-top. "I guess I'll check out the dockyards."

Peter continued to eye Dean as he made his way towards the door. Peter shifted in his seat. If the girl could fry Ricky to a crisp; this Dean might be able to do something a lot like it.

He saw Dean stop by the lock and examine it for a moment. His thoughts filled Peter's mind. _"Yeah, she was definitely here."_

Peter rose from his chair as Dean raised a hand and left the pub. As soon as the door swung shut Peter started moving, he walked quickly over to the door and peered out watching Dean walk quickly down the street.

"What? What is it?" Caitlin asked, moving out from behind the bar to stand next to Peter.

"We've gotta go." Peter said, rushing into the backroom. "He knows, and he knows that we know about the girl. He knows about what happened to Ricky – I heard his thoughts, I don't know how – When he finds out that the girl came here looking for me, he'll be back."

"So, he can help us find her."

"No, he won't help us." Peter said, he pulled a bag out of the backroom and dumped it on top of a table. "We have to leave."

"You saw his necklace, Peter." Caitlin stated, traces of worry entering her voice. "It's exactly the same as yours. Maybe he knows about your past Peter. He might even know why you're being sought after."

"Then why didn't he say anything? He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't even know why Ricky's killer came here in the first place. But when he gets to the docks he'll find out about me and he'll be back."

"Peter…." Caitlin began. She cut off as she watched Peter throw some clothes into the bag.

"Our flight leaves in a few hours, we can hide out at your place until then. We can't let him find us again. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Peter, what's going on?" Caitlin asked as she laid a hand on Peter's forearm.

Peter paused and looked at her straight in the eye. "I don't know. I don't know who these people are. I don't know what they want from me. In Montreal we can find answers. But until then we have to hide!"


	4. Chapter 4

The dockyard was a swarm of workmen and heavy machinery. There was a ship ready to be sent off somewhere and they were working furiously to get it loaded in time. Dean sidestepped a jogging worker and continued to walk between two containers. It was like a maze around here, he had already gotten lost three times now. He had been given directions by a laughing worker and now he was finally on track.

He had been told that out of the dozens of drunken men in the dock; the one he was looking for was in the south side of the dock. He wasn't entirely sure of that fact, how could anyone know what specific drunk he was looking for. He hadn't bothered to ask why however. If he had to go and seek them out one by one, he might as start with this guy.

He rounded the container's corner and emerged into a pathway much larger then the container-formed others. He paused and glanced around. The worker had told him that the drunken guy was around here somewhere.

Dean's head snapped around in surprise as a loud beeping noise filled the air. He leapt backwards, colliding with a container as a forklift sped past. Dean glared angrily at the driver as he stood back up and dusted himself off. The driver smirked at him and increased his speed.

Drunken laughter filled the air as the forklifts engine sounds faded away. "Not your day, is it, boy?"

Dean turned to face the man stumbling towards him. The man had greying hair and a rough beard. Dean noticed a half empty bottle of liquor was grasped tightly in his hand. Dean hoped that this was the man he was looking for. He really didn't want to go and look around the entire dock for the rest of the day. "Well, it hasn't been the best." Dean replied.

The man laughed again and clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. Dean walked after him, keeping up pace with the man's drunken stride. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me. You see, I'm looking for someone--"

"Like that girly was yesterday." The man cut across him, taking a long swig of the half-empty bottle.

Dean felt his excitement surge. "I'm actually looking for that girl."

The drunken man looked at him sideways, with a knowing glint in his eyes. "Blonde hair, pretty, an outrageous flirt?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's her. I need to know where she went."

The drunken man looked up at the sky; a thoughtful look was on his face. "I dunno; my memory's a little fuzzy on that point." He glanced back at Dean and looked at him suggestively.

Dean stopped and stared at him in confusion for a moment before sudden realisation flooded through his system. "You're kidding, right?"

The drunken man smiled and rubbed two gloved fingers together.

Dean sighed in frustration and pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. He reluctantly pressed some bills into the drunk's readily awaiting hand.

The drunk flipped through the money before depositing it away about his person. He grinned in satisfaction. "She went and talked to Will." He said, raising a finger and pointing at a man scrawling something down on a clipboard. "I don't know where she went after that. Will would have told her whatever she wanted to know."

Dean looked at the drunk in disgust. He shouldn't have even bothered bribing the man; he could have asked any dock worker and found out the same thing for free. He honestly considered frying this man here and now. But Bob would probably give him another lecture on killing without cause. This drunk wasn't important to the assignment, he knew about as much as everyone else. And chances were that the man would forget everything he had seen or heard by morning. "Thanks, I guess."

The drunken man raised a hand and continued walking, taking long swigs of his now almost empty bottle.

Dean shook his head and started off in Will's direction. He couldn't believe that he had just been played by a drunk. If Elle heard about this he wouldn't hear the end of it. "Hey, excuse me!" Dean shouted as he drew closer to Will.

Will paused in the middle of writing something down on his clipboard and looked up. He tucked his pen behind his ear and walked up to the approaching Dean. "What can I do for you?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm looking for someone. That guy back there told me that she talked to you." Dean gestured back at the drunken man.

Will smirked and replied. "I'm guessing that he conned you out of a couple of quid."

"You guessed right." Dean said bitterly.

Will chuckled. "It happens to us all once or twice. But you want to know about the girl?"

"Right again."

"I knew they wouldn't send a little girl in all by herself." Will said as he made another quick note on his clipboard.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked frowning slightly. He expected Elle to make a few small slip ups, but he had no idea that she would mention The Company, even an oblique mention, especially since the Haitian went rogue.

When Will spoke, Dean could hear the curiosity in his voice. "Yeah, she said she worked for a company that was interested in keeping someone out of trouble."

Dean sighed. Mentioning The Company and her assignment; what the hell was Elle thinking. At least now he knew a little bit about why Elle was in Cork. "Did she tell you who she was looking for?"

"Yeah, she did. She said she was looking for this guy called Peter Petrelli. A bunch of us found the poor sap chained up inside one of the containers a couple of nights ago. She wouldn't believe me when I said he wasn't there anymore. She wanted to check the container herself."

"Peter Petrelli?" Dean asked. The name was completely unfamiliar to him. "Do you know where he is now?"

Will laughed slightly and said. 'You know, she asked me that exact same question. Anyway, he's at The Wandering Rocks pub; I told the girl he was there. She may even be there now. She was pretty eager to find him."

"Yeah, I'll bet she was." Dean smirked. His mind was racing beneath his wall of amusement and control. The pieces of the puzzle were fitting together now. Elle was looking for this Peter Petrelli when she killed Ricky. Dean chuckled ironically when he thought back. He had been sitting only a few seats away from Peter Petrelli and didn't even know he was Elle's assignment.

"Find something funny about that?" Will asked.

"I guess, I mean after what she did to Ricky. I really wouldn't want to be the one to get in her way." As he spoke, Dean looked closely at Will's face, trying to judge his reaction.

"She did that to Ricky?" Will asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "I heard he was burnt alive."

"Yeah, well, she can be quite ruthless when she wants to be."

"But how can someone do that?"

Dean smiled. Will was just walking right into this. He looked up and down the long container-formed isles. There were far too many workers around. "Come on." Dean said, gesturing behind one of the containers. "I'll tell you, I don't really want anyone overhearing, so…" Dean's smirk widened as Will followed him out of the workers eyesight and into the narrow seclusion of the isle.

"So, how'd she do it?" Will inquired suspiciously.

Dean held out his hand in front of him. Will's eyes opened wide in astonishment as blue sparks began to dance across Dean's fingers.

"What the- How did you?" Will stammered, stepping back in fear.

Dean grinned and lashed out, grabbing Will's jaw in his electrically charged hand. He pressed hard over Will's mouth, making sure that not even the smallest grunt escaped. Dean stepped forward, pushing Will into the side of the container.

Will's eyes widened in pain. His smothered screams filled the air; much too faint to be heard by anyone who could interfere with Dean's janitor work.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he increased the strength of his electricity. He felt Will's body spasm uncontrollably. He saw the light die in Will's eyes. He watched Will's final twitches with cold determination. It was necessary; Will knew too much to be left alive. He may have lost his discomfort with killing a long time ago, but he never really enjoyed it. When you worked for The Company, being morally grey was one of the job requirements.

Will slumped, his legs collapsing from underneath him. Dean released Will's lifeless body and let him fall heavily to the ground. Dean stepped back. Will's eyes seemed to stare at him accusingly. Dean raised his hand and pointed his open-palm at Will's corpse. He flexed his fingers as his hand began to glow blue. Lightning burst out from his palm, encompassing Will in a rush of glowing sparks.

Dean clenched his palm into a fist, cutting off the large bolt of electricity. The acrid smell of burnt flesh hung in the air. Dean looked coldly at Will's body, now burnt beyond recognition. He turned and began to walk away from what he had done. It was only a matter of time now until someone found Captain Crispy back there. Dean really wanted to be out of the docks when that happened.

He increased his pace to a jog. At least he knew where he needed to go now. He glanced up at the sky as a plane passed overhead the docks. _Probably that Montreal flight. _Dean thought absently. His mind was focused on the task at hand. Will's murder would be connected to him soon; he intended to be on his way back to America when that happened. But first, he had to take care of the two people at the pub.

* * *

Dean tested the door handle to the Wandering Rocks pub. He frowned when it didn't budge under the applied pressure. He had seen a couple of police cars race past when he was about halfway to the pub. It would take them a little while to identify Will and even longer for them to discover that he had been the last one to see him alive.

Dean glanced around the street and positioned himself steadily in front of the bolted door. He raised his hand and placed it firmly in the middle of the door. His palm flashed its customary blue as a ball of lightning erupted out of his palm.

The door burst open from the force of the electricity. Dean stepped through and peered into the darkened room. It had been abandoned in a hurry. He ran into the backroom, his eyes seeking out any sign of Peter or that Caitlin girl.

Dean felt his anger bubble to the surface. He lashed out with his fist, striking the wall with an electrically charged punch. He should have realised that they knew. He had seen the looks on their faces when they saw his necklace. He had seen the looks on their faces when he mentioned Elle. "Damn it!" Dean yelled as he punched the wall again.

Long cracks appeared in the wall. Dean looked at his rapidly bruising fist. His outburst had done nothing to appease his seething anger. He had stuffed up and now he had no other leads to go on.

He began to walk out of the pub, blasting tables and chairs out of his way with large bolts of electricity. He needed to get back to New York. If Bob had actually told him everything; he may not have screwed up so badly. There weren't any answers left in Cork. Peter would have left almost as soon as he had himself. Dean looked hopelessly up in the air as he left the pub. "What the hell is going on?"


	5. Chapter 5

Dean stared down at his cell phone's main screen as he walked. He needed to clear his head, to calm himself. The long walk back to the airport should have been more then enough time for anger to subside. Already he was starting to feel better. He could see the airport in the distance, the bright airport lights were beginning to turn on as the sky darkened into night. By the time he actually arrived there, he should be back to his usual impassionate attitude. But at the moment, he wanted answers and being angry would only help in getting them.

He opened his cell phone's contact list and began to scroll through the various names that appeared on the screen. A couple of other Company agents he had worked with over the years, Bob, Elle, Candice, Tommy, Bianca.

He paused on Candice's name. There was no point keeping it on there, she was dead now. He hadn't called her much anyway; the last time was when he had called to ask her how Sylar was doing. She had hung up almost immediately; she had said that Sylar was waking up.

Dean scrolled over Bob's name and stopped on Elle's. Bob would sidestep his questions and eventually hang up on him, but Elle would tell him what he wanted to know. He pressed the call button and held the phone up to his ear.

He mentally counted the number of rings as he waited for Elle to answer. "Come on, Elle." He muttered. "Don't force me to call Bob." He smiled in relief as Elle's voice sounded through the phone.

"You know, Dean," said Elle; her words slightly distorted through the connection. "You're the last person I expected to hear from. I thought you were on assignment with Candice down in Mexico."

"Not anymore," Dean replied as he peered ahead of him. Even though it was nearing night, the sidewalks were still a rush of bustling people and the streets were full of speeding vehicles. "I'm in Ireland, cleaning up your mess."

Dean could hear the anger in Elle's words as she spoke. "They sent you? They pulled me off my assignment and sent you to finish it?"

"No, they sent me to fix it. When I started I didn't even know what your assignment was."

"But you know now?"

"Yeah, I talked to this dock worker called Will. He told me that you were looking for this man called Peter Petrelli. Oh and guess who I met a couple of hours before I talked to him." Dean said the last sentence with obvious sarcasm in his voice.

"You found him?!" Elle asked incredulously. "I look all over Cork. Then you go and catch him on your first day."

"I didn't catch him," Dean said irritably. "I didn't even know who he was until I spoke to Will."

"You're joking."

"No. If I was, I'd be on my way back to New York _with_ Peter."

"What do you want, Dean?" Elle asked, scoffing at Dean's words. "You didn't call to tell me that we both failed. If you were, you'd be talking to Bob, not me."

"Okay, I want answers, Elle. Who the hell is Peter Petrelli?"

"You really don't know?" Elle asked sceptically. Dean could hear her laugh before she carried on speaking. "Looks like someone kicked you out the need-to-know list."

"Elle." Dean warned.

Elle chuckled, "He's just some guy I was sent to bag and tag, no big deal."

"That's crap, Elle. If he was 'just some guy,' The Company wouldn't care if you killed to get to him."

"We're friends, Dean. You really think I'd lie to you?" Elle asked in a hurt tone. She was faking, even through a phone, Dean could tell.

"Yes." Dean said simply. "I've lied to you; you've lied to me. Sometimes that was the reason why we worked so well together."

"Speaking of partnerships," Elle said, evading Dean's verbal prodding, "how'd you like working with Candice."

Dean scowled; he could hear the blatant mockery in Elle's voice. "It sucked; she was full of half-assed comments and insults. But I left as soon as I set up the safe-house for Sylar.

"Aw, Dean; she tried to touch you again, didn't she?" Elle asked in a child-like voice.

"No. I had a different assignment as soon as I set up the safehouse." Elle was avoiding the question. It was clear to him that Peter Petrelli meant more to Elle then she wanted to admit. "You like him, didn't you?" There was no doubt about who Dean meant.

"What? No." Elle replied quickly.

"You're lying." Dean laughed. "So I take it you kissed him as well?"

"Jealous?"

"I actually don't care who you decide to make-out with. But I do care if that person is the reason I'm here in the first place."

Elle sighed through the phone line. "Peter, he's…complicated. He's the man who exploded above New York."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, that was him?" Dean asked incredulously.

"You didn't know? Dad took me to meet him after he sent you and Candice off to…wherever you two went. But Peter escaped and somehow ended up in Ireland. I was sent to bring him back. But… dad said that I was getting too emotional to continue the assignment. Apparently, news that I electrocuted someone travels fast." Elle said the last few sentences in a bitter voice.

Dean frowned. He could hear the obvious emotion in Elle's voice. Normally he wouldn't be too worried about that. Elle always let her emotions run free; she didn't know the meaning of restraint. She could be completely charming and seductive one minute; but then turn furious and homicidal the next. The change was always spontaneous. It made the days interesting. "By the way, did you come in contact with anyone else who knows why you came to Ireland?" Dean asked. "I want to finish this assignment as soon as I can."

"Only that Will guy knew. But you killed him, right?"

Dean said nothing. Elle knew full well that he had killed Will. That's what janitor work truly meant in The Company. It didn't matter who knew she was there. Only who knew _why_ she was there.

"Who's ability do you have now?" asked Elle, not bothered by Dean's silence. She gasped sarcastically. "Not Candice's."

"No," Dean said, imitating Elle's previous defensiveness, "your's, actually."

"Still?" Elle scoffed. Dean imagined her rolling her eyes as she spoke. "Four months, Dean. That's a bit obsessive, don't you think?"

Dean shook his head as he replied, "No, not really."

Elle laughed.

"Look, I'm on my way back to Hartsdale now." Dean continued, rolling his eyes at Elle's amusement. "You tell Bob that I'm done. I don't wanna speak to him at the moment." He removed the phone from his ear and flipped it shut without saying good-bye to Elle.

He stopped and looked at the bright lights of the airport. His conversation with Elle had brought him right up to the airports sliding doors. He stepped through and walked into the still bustling interior. He wasn't surprised at the mass of people walking around. He knew that there would be a lot of people leaving on that flight to Los Angeles.

Dean stopped suddenly just outside the gate to the private plane as an arm was thrust out to stop his advancement.

"I'm sorry, sir," an airport security guard said. "This is for private passengers only."

Dean sighed in frustration, "I'm Dean Matthews. The plane's waiting for me."

The security guard shook is head. "Oh…ah….Mr. Matthews; your plane left about three hours ago."

Dean looked at the security guard blankly, "…What?"

"Your plane left, sir. They filled out all of the paperwork and flight plans right after you left."

Dean swore under his breath. His mind was racing. This couldn't have been a mistake; the pilot must have been ordered to leave him here. He turned and began to walk quickly towards the main desk. He needed to get on the LA flight, or he would be stuck here, just waiting for the police to fit the puzzle pieces together.

He lost his balance slightly as a blonde woman rammed into his shoulder. "Hey!" He said, turning to look at the person who bumped into him. He glared at the blonde as he regained his balance.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The woman said with a heavy Texan accent. "I didn't see."

Dean frowned after the woman as she continued walking, disappearing into the crowd. He could have sworn he recognised her from somewhere.

His eyes widened as his mind finally making the connection. He spun around, seeking out the woman with renewed interest. It couldn't be her. What the hell was The Company playing at.

He glanced around as frightened shouts reached his ears.

"He's on fire!"

"Look!"

"Someone help!"

Dean looked towards the owners of the shouts. He noticed that there was a large ring surrounding him. People were staring at him with obvious fear on their faces.

He looked down and his eyes widened in shock. His hands were engulfed by rapidly rising flames. He took a deep breath as he tried to control the fire. The flames continued to grow, quickly encompassing his wrists and forearms. He clenched his fists, trying to smother the fire.

The crowd erupted into mass panic as streams of fire rushed out of his hands and shot up towards the rooftop. Dean looked around desperately, his eyes seeking out the woman. The flames grew with renewed speed, impairing his vision. He was barely able to see several security guards push through the crowd, their guns pointing at him.

"Drop the flamethrowers, now!" One of the guards yelled. Dean raised his flame-ridden hands in surrender. The guards each took a step back as they saw that there weren't any flamethrowers, only Dean.

Dean smiled as the realisation of what happened dawned on him, "son of a…" He cut off as two needle sharp objects plunged through the flames pierced his neck. He sank to his knees as electricity poured into his body. The flames rapidly receded as Dean slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Meredith Gordon walked away from the fiery scene, pulling her cell-phone out and dialling a number. She didn't want to do what she did. She wasn't necessarily a bad person. She may be deceitful, but she didn't enjoy hurting people. It was either her or him and she'd choose herself every time.

"I suppose you've finished." Bob asked from the other end of the line.

"Yes…" Meredith answered. "You'll leave me alone now? No more running? No more jumping at shadows?"

"As we agreed, Miss. Gordon, we won't bother you anymore," Bob said. "Has he been detained?"

Meredith looked back and winced as she watched the man fall to his knee's, the flames receding. "Yes, just now."

"Good, consider yourself forgotten, Miss. Gordon." Bob said. "But if you ever want a job with The Company. It's yours."

Meredith removed the phone from her ear and hung up. She looked back at the man again. He was tentatively being handcuffed by the airport security. "I'm sorry. It was either you or me. You'd make the same decision."

Meredith turned and began to walk away, heading towards the bay for the Los Angeles flight.


	6. Chapter 6: Four Months Ago

**_Four Months Ago…_**

Elle stared up at the moonlit sky, her eyes watching for the smallest glimmer of unnatural light. She was so focused on the sky; she failed to notice where her feet were carrying her. The explosion a few minutes ago had intrigued her to no end, she knew who had caused it, she knew how that person had caused it; but it still interested her greatly. So much power…

She felt a hand grab her forearm and pull her to one side. "Can you try and look where you're going?" Her partner said, pulling her away from a head on collision with a fire-hydrant and grinning. "I can't always keep one eye on you. I swear, ever since that explosion..."

Elle smiled and looked sideways at her partner, "I don't expect you to look out for me, Dean. I can take care of myself." Her partner knew nothing of Peter or the explosion; she knew that for a fact. She had been ordered to keep it from him. And she had followed orders.

"I know you can, I saw how ruthless you were on our last assignment," Dean said, continuing to walk forward. "You know, being morally grey is part of the job description. But I think you're still meant to have a little bit of sympathy." Dean placed his thumb and index finger close together, reinforcing his point.

"I do have sympathies, Dean," Elle said in disagreement. "As much as you do; only your swayed by yours more."

Dean chuckled and released Elle's arm, now confident that she wasn't going to walk into anything. "Did Bob say why we needed to go back to Hartsdale?" He asked. "We already dropped off our last bag and tag."

Elle shook her head, "No, he just said to get back as soon as possible."

"You know, I'm starting to think that Bob doesn't trust us." Dean joked.

Elle nodded, "Would you? We're the only partnership in The Company that's made up of two specials."

"That's only because you shock everyone you're partnered with; I have your ability at the moment, so you can't electrocute me."

Elle smiled and placed an electrically charged hand on Dean's shoulder, "Feeling lonely?"

Dean turned and returned her smile, "Not really, I…" Dean cut off, staring past Elle and into an alleyway. "What the hell…"

Elle turned around and followed her partner's gaze. She frowned as she caught sight of two men attacking a woman in the alley. "You're not thinking…?" She cut off as Dean pushed pat her, his hands glowing with blue electricity. Elle shrugged, "I guess you are." She stepped forward, her own hands glowing with electricity.

One of the attackers stopped as he saw Dean and Elle's approach. He tapped the other man's shoulder, "Hey, Roy." The man warned as he drew a knife and stood to face Dean. Neither, he nor his friend seemed to notice the blue glow of electricity. "Don't try to be a hero, kid. They always get what's coming to them."

Elle hung back as she watched Dean walk forward confidently. She could hear the sobs of the attacked woman against the alleyway wall. Elle ignored her, focusing on Dean. She always liked to watch him fight. She liked to see her own power used by another. She smiled as the man with the knife lunged forward, slashing the knife at Dean.

Dean lashed out, grabbing the man's wrist with his glowing hand. The man screamed in pain, dropping the knife as electricity surged into his body.

Elle didn't need to see Dean's face to know his expression; she had seen so many times; a look of unnerving calm and ruthlessness. She knew that she was called twisted by the other members of The Company. But the truth was, she wasn't the only one. Dean could be just as twisted and merciless when he wanted to be. The only difference was that she had lived with her ability a lot longer then Dean had lived with his.

Her smile grew as she watched Dean place his free hand on the man's chest. She saw him flex his fingers as a stream of electricity gushed out from his palm. The man was blown back, the bolt carrying him against one of the alley's brick walls.

Dean straightened his arm, pinning the man against the wall with the bolt. The pungent smell of burnt flesh began to fill the air.

Elle's eyes shifted to the other attacker: Roy. He had been watching Dean's display of power with wide-eyed fear. But as the stink of burnt flesh began to fill the air, his eyes narrowed and his look of fear was replaced with fury. Elle sensed this air about him; something she could only describe as vengeance.

Roy leapt forward, tackling Dean to the ground, cutting off the massive bolt. The burnt corpse of the first attacker fell to the ground, barely a metre away from the screaming woman.

Elle clenched her fists, amplifying the strength of her electricity. She saw what Dean had failed to notice in his struggle. The knife had been picked up by Roy and was now clutched threateningly in his hand.

Elle stepped forward and raised her hand; she narrowed her eyes as electricity streamed out of her palm; manipulated by a lifetime of experience. The bolt struck Roy, incinerating him instantly.

Elle walked towards Dean, grinning as she watched him rise to his feet and dust himself off. "Getting rusty, are we?" She joked.

Dean glared at her and wiped away a trickle of blood with the back of his hand. "Didn't see him coming." He explained as he dabbed his split lip.

Elle laughed, "Come on, let's go. I can hear sirens."

Dean nodded as he glanced in the direction of the flashing red and blue lights, "Alright, let's go."

Elle smiled and began to walk away from the alley, continuing her way towards the Hartsdale office. She heard Dean jog to catch up to her. She turned her head to look at him as he fell into step. There was something different about him, as though something was missing, "Oh, your necklace," Elle exclaimed, pointing at Dean's neck. "It's gone."

Dean frowned and looked down at is chest, pulling his collar away from his neck. "Damn," he said, turning back to look at the alley. "It must have fallen off when I fell."

Elle grabbed his wrist as he began to turn back. "It's only a necklace, Dean. We don't have time."

Dean just stared at her, completely conflicted. Elle knew why, even if she didn't completely understand it. That necklace was given to Dean a long time ago. He didn't know who gave it to him, or even exactly when he was given it. But it was part of him. Elle had never seen him without. She even thought he showered with it on.

"Okay," Dean said finally, all traces of uncertainty gone from his voice.

Elle took his hand and half pulled him along. They disappeared around a corner as the police cars screeched to a halt.

* * *

"Can you tell me, Miss?" The detective asked, kneeling down in front of the traumatised woman. "What did you see? What happened here?" 

The woman stared at him blankly, her eyes often shifting between him and the burnt corpses of her attackers. "I don't know," she stammered. "Those two…those two men attacked me and then it was just…just bright lights."

The detective sighed and looked at his partner. He was examining the unrecognisable bodies, holding his nose to block the stench. "What lights, Miss?" He asked, scrawling down her previous answer on his notepad.

"I don't know," the woman said, her voice gaining confidence. "All I know is that two shining figures came and saved my life. They did that." She pointed at one burnt corpse.

"Shining figures?" The detective asked sceptically.

The woman looked at him, her voice completely certain. "Angels."

The detective frowned, all of his training and experience told him that this woman was telling the truth. He stood up, leaving the woman to the care of ambulance officials. He walked over to his partner, kneeling next to him to examine the bodies. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" He asked, screwing up his nose.

"Yeah," his partner replied. "I helped investigate that fire about six months ago. The victims all looked like this; burned beyond recognition."

The detective shook his head in disgust. Just when you think that you're used to this job, something happens that completely throws you off. "Everything's gone strange since that explosion; some people are thinking that it was the beginning of the end, or whatever."

"What did the woman say about what happened to her attackers?" The detective's partner asked.

The detective smiled, "She said that angels did this."

"Angels?" His partner said sceptically.

"It's what she said."

His partner shrugged. "I've heard stranger things…" He broke off, his eyes catching sight of something clutched tightly in the dead man's burnt hand. "Hey, what do you think that is?"

The detective frowned and moved over to the other side of the burnt attacker. "I dunno, it looks like a chain or something." He leaned in closer, his eyes finally seeing the silver object attached to a smouldered black cord. Despite the burnt hand grasping it, the object seemed completely clean and new, not even a speck of dust or grime tarnished it's surface. The detective leaned back, wondering about the silver helix grasped in the corpse's death-grip.

* * *

"I told you two to lay low." Bob reprimanded, towering over Elle and Dean in his anger. 

Elle shot an amused grin at Dean. She wasn't concerned by Bob's anger. She knew Dean wasn't either. He was never bothered by authority. He was mainly subdued by the loss of his necklace. It seemed trivial to Elle, but she had never lost something as precious as the necklace was to Dean.

"Don't get me wrong," Bob continued. "I am proud that both of you saved a life, it's a big change for you, Elle."

Elle scowled at Bob's words. She wasn't completely without a heart and they both knew it. Saving that woman was the right thing to do. She would have stopped the attack even if Dean had not been there with her. At least, that's what she thought she would do.

"But your complete lack of thought has put this Company in a jeopardous position. We have to clean up the mess you two made. So as punishment for your rash actions, I am dissolving your partnership immediately."

"What?!" Dean yelled, slamming his fists against Bob's desk in his fury. "You can't do that!"

Elle felt anger begin to surge in her body. She didn't want to lose her partner – her only friend – because of an ill-thought out decision.

"I can do that," Bob replied calmly, his voice filled with authority. Dean quietened, but Elle could still feel his fury radiating from his body. "We've been planning to do this for a long time. The two of you make an effective team, but we can't have any more incidents."

Elle glared at Bob; she understood the reasoning behind the decision, but she didn't understand why he was splitting them now, of all times. "Isn't there anything we can do to…?" She asked desperately.

"No, there isn't." Bob interjected. "But it's not all bad. I have ready assignments for both of you."

Elle heard Dean sigh and remove his hands from Bob's desk. She herself was curious about what assignment Bob had for her.

"I'll get to yours in a minute, Elle." Bob said as he stood up and walked around his desk. "Candice, can you come in."

Elle turned to look at the door to Bob's office. She immediately felt sorry for Dean. He and Candice hated each other. She watched as the door was pushed open and a bloodstained and grimy Candice walked in.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean chuckled, eyeing Candice's bloodied form.

Candice grinned in amusement and stepped forward, reaching out a hand to grab at Dean.

Elle saw Dean step back, trying to avoid Candice's touch. Elle smiled sweetly and stepped in front of Dean, her hands glowing with electricity. There was no mistaking the threatening nature of her smile. She did it for herself, as much for Dean. With his lack of control, Dean would project Candice's ability everywhere, showing people their greatest fears and their most hidden dreams. She had no desire to live in an illusion.

"Aw, hiding behind a girl, nice touch, Dean." Candice said dryly, stepping back to avoid Elle.

"That's quite enough, Candice." Bob said loudly, preventing any further arguments or violence.

Candice snorted and crossed her arms confidently. Elle continued to smile at her. She wished they were alone so she could electrocute Candice. She almost had once before; when Candice touched Dean about a year ago. Elle had been shown her worst nightmare for hours until Dean had managed to get the ability under control. It was the reason why Candice was sent to Primatech in the first place.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the assignment." Bob said, looking at the three expectantly.

Elle turned and faced Bob's desk. She saw Dean glare angrily at Candice and move to the side of the office. Candice cast an amused glance at Dean before returning her full attention to Bob.

"As I was saying," Bob continued. "Candice recently paid a great price in trying to fulfil her assignment. And it would be a mistake to let her finish it alone. That's why I'm ordering you to help her Dean."

"What?" Dean said rebelliously. "You can't be serious."

"I am." Bob said, his tone commanding no further interruptions. "Candice brought in a man named Sylar. He is grievously injured and we're doing everything we can to save him. But now the police are looking for Candice. And as such, we are forced to get them both out of the country. That's where you come in Dean."

Dean looked at Bob strangely. Elle could see that his rebellion was dying down. He had seen the meaning in Bob's words; just like she had. Chances were, Dean wouldn't have to stay near Candice for very long.

"You are to get a safe house set up for Candice and Sylar, we have a location set for you; a jungle in Mexico. You just need to go there, make sure everything's set and then you can enjoy your time in Mexico, a long vacation. At least until Sylar recovers, then you are charged to help bring him back in."

"Can I start now?" Dean asked.

"In a moment, first you have to see Sylar for yourself, we can't have you looking after the wrong man." Bob answered, ignoring Candice's amused glances. "And Candice, if I find out that you've tried to touch Dean, you will be immediately pulled from the assignment. We can not have another incident like last year."

Candice smirked at Elle. She knew what Elle had seen, it was part of the reason she had done it in the first place.

Bob noticed the glance and turned his full attention onto Candice. "Candice, take Dean to Sylar, inform him of all the assignment details. I need a private word with Elle."

Elle smiled at Dean as she watched him leave. This would be the last time they saw each other for a long time. Dean returned her smile as he followed Candice out of the office and closed the door behind him.

Elle turned away from the door and faced Bob, "What's my assignment?"

Bob smiled, "One that you'll like. You know the exploding man?"

Elle nodded, her excitement rising.

"He's heading to a hospital. Are you ready to meet him?"


	7. Chapter 7

_Peter wandered through the deserted wasteland of a city, his eyes searching for even the smallest sign of life. Piles of garbage were dumped carelessly on the streets, forgotten by the world. The resulting stench made Peter gag. The stink was familiar to Peter; this entire environment was familiar to him. He was back in New York, at the time when the virus was making the entire world hide in fear._

_"Hello!" He shouted desperately. He tried to listen through his eerie echo, waiting for any responding sound. He frowned into the deserted city streets, not a dog's bark, or a bird's chirp; not even human's voice answered his call._

_He stared around the abandoned street, confusion and fear rising to breaking point, threatening to engulf him. He caught sight of his reflection in a shop window. He walked forward, weaving his way through the masses of garbage bags until he stood in front of the window._

_He peered at his reflection, looking into his own weary eyes, eyes that had seen too much. His eyes were drawn down to the refection's hands; they were glowing with unnatural light. It wasn't the blue glow of his electricity. It was red, unclean; nuclear._

_He stared down at his own hands. They were fine, normal; no unnatural light radiated from his palms; nothing._

_He looked back at his reflection; he stepped back in surprise and fear as his mirror image began to move, separately to Peter's own actions. It raised its hands, looking down on them with obvious fear in its eyes. Its body began to glow the same red as his hands._

_Peter stumbled back as his reflection curled its hands into fists. Its eyes glowed red. A piercing yell filled Peter's ears; a yell of fury and pain. All Peter saw was bright light as his reflection exploded._

_Peter cried out as he scrambled away from the bright, burning light. He pushed against the ground, feeling himself soar upwards in a rush of wind. He straightened his body and like an arrow, he shot into the air, flying high above New York._

_He stopped in mid-flight and turned as the light suddenly disappeared from existence. Peter looked down from his bird's eye view of the city. Something was different; two people were facing each other on the street. They looked like ants to Peter from his position far above the city._

_He began to slowly descend. The closer he came to the ground, the clearer the two people became. Peter saw one of the figures grab the other by his collar, forcing him back into a wall. As Peter neared, the assaulting figure became instantly recognisable. It was Dean._

_"Where'd they go?" Dean said angrily, there was no denying the threat in Dean's voice. Peter was glad he wasn't the on the receiving end of Dean's fury._

_Peter hit the ground lightly. Neither Dean nor the other man seemed to notice his sudden appearance. He took a step forward, trying to get a closer look at the two men. Dean looked exactly as he sounded: furious. Peter didn't recognise the other man. But he wore the exact same white coat as the lab technicians at The Company; he even had a Company issue taser at his waist._

_The Company tech glared at Dean as he desperately tried to reach the taser. "I can't tell you, Dean," the tech said through shaking teeth. "Bob ordered me not to. I don't care how much you shock-"_

_Dean cut him off by slamming him even harder against the wall. "Where are they?!" He shouted. Peter's eyes widened in surprise, he could hear an emotion even stronger then anger in Dean's voice. It was worry. And it was fuelling Dean's anger like wood fuelled fire._

_The tech shut his mouth tightly, staring defiantly at the furious Dean._

_Dean's eyes narrowed. He removed his right hand from the tech's collar while tightening his grip with his left. He raised his free arm wide. The tech's eyes widened in fear as Dean's hand disappeared in a burst of fire. "Where?" Dean repeated, holding a burning finger near the tech's left eye._

_"They went to California." The tech said, completely terrified; struggling even harder to get away from the flames. "A place called Costa Verde."_

_Dean smiled and dropped the cowering technician. He turned and started to run, smothering the flames with a clenched fist._

_Peter took a step back. Dean was running straight towards him. It was as though Dean couldn't see him; his brown eyes were staring right through him. Peter took another step back, holding his arms in front of him in a protective gesture._

_Peter watched through the gap between his arms as Dean's feet left the ground, his body straightening in the desire for greater speed. Peter squeezed his eyes shut; expecting the impending collision. He winced as he felt Dean fly right through his body and soar into the sky._

_Peter shivered and turned to watch Dean's flight. It was a strange feeling. It didn't feel like Dean had phased right through him; or if he had phased through Dean. he didn't know how to describe it; it was as though he wasn't even there._

_He stared up at the sky, looking for any sign of Dean's flight. The sky was empty, there wasn't even a twisted or broken cloud signalling Dean's rapid movement._

_Peter looked back down, frowning in confusion. It was just like his exploding reflection; it was as though the entire event had never happened at all. His eyes fell on a new event playing out in front of him. Just like before, no-one seemed to notice his presence._

_He instantly recognised everyone from the unfolding scene. And with recognition, came realisation. It wasn't just a stand-off; it was a trade._

_He watched as a gun-wielding Noah Bennet let Elle walk forward. Peter noticed that her hands were bound behind her back with silver masking tape. His eyes switched over to the other party. He watched as Bob and Mohinder let Claire move towards her father. As Elle and Claire passed by each other, the entire event vanished from Peter's vision._

_Peter fell to his knees as image after image after image flashed in front of his eyes; Hiro standing in front of his father's tombstone. Mohinder speaking to Noah, "I'm here to ask you to give us Claire." He saw Elle stagger back, clutching her right arm after being shot. He watched as Caitlin patted Dean on the shoulder and said, "Welcome to hell."_

_The images gained speed, moving too fast for Peter to see. He cried out as the visions overwhelmed him._

* * *

Peter jerked awake, breathing heavily. He sat up, massaging his head with one hand. It was a dream, he realised, just a nightmare. It seemed different though, like the time he had dreamed of his explosion in New York. It could have just been his mind adjusting after his sudden recovery of his memories and Peter was just overreacting. 

"Peter, are you alright?" Adam asked, appearing in front of Peter and sitting down.

"Yeah," Peter replied, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. "It was just a dream."

Adam nodded and smiled. "Come and talk to me after four hundred years of dreams. That'll be a long conversation."

"It was strange; it was like it was real." Peter said.

Adam looked at him strangely. "Try not to dwell on it, Peter. It's probably just you're mind trying to filter your memories. Regaining your entire life in one go would strain anyone's head."

Peter didn't answer; it was more then just a dream. He knew it. He just didn't know what it was.

* * *

Elle sat in Bob's office, watching Bob read through a file. She had arrived back in Hartsdale not too long ago. She had been intent in going back to Cork and continuing her search for Peter. But her conversation with Dean had changed her mind. There was no point going back. Peter would be long gone. 

Elle sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was come back to this place; her home of sixteen years. But Dean would be back soon and then it wouldn't be so bad. She still remembered the day he had been brought here fourteen years ago. He had been bagged and tagged by Noah Bennet and Claude Rains. Circumstances had changed and Dean was taken in by The Company. He was only ten years old.

Elle reached out a hand and began to stroke a flower petal on a side table. She had always been close to Dean. At first he was a new toy, nothing more. But after The Company taught him to use his ability, things changed. Every spark she gave him, he gave back in full; it didn't matter that it didn't hurt either of them. It had been so exciting for her; a toy that actually played back. Soon she started to see him as a friend, not a plaything.

Elle looked at the flower petal, a pleased smile forming on her lips. She plied her ability, watching the sparks travel from her fingertips and onto the petal. She watched as the entire plant wilted and died.

"Stop it, Elle." Bob said, without looking up from his file.

Elle glanced at him as she leaned back in her seat and cupped her chin in her palm. She watched as Bob closed the file and looked at her with calculating eyes.

"You've caused a great deal of trouble, Elle," Bob said. "Fortunately we were able to repair the situation before it became too serious."

Elle stared at him and said nothing; she just wanted this reprimand to be over as soon as possible.

"But despite what you might think," Bob continued. "You're not here to be chastised. We have a situation in California and I want you to help us resolve it."

"Situation?" Elle asked, leaning forward in her chair at the prospect of getting out of Hartsdale again.

"Yes," Bob said. "I'll fill you in on the details later, but it is of great importance to us. Right now, it's a lot bigger then Peter Petrelli."

"Will Dean be back in time to help?"

Bob looked down for a moment before speaking, "No, he'll be in Cork for quite a while."

"What?" Elle asked, confused. "Why? I talked to him yesterday; he said that he was on his way back."

"I caused him to be arrested for the murder you committed while you were over there and one of his own." Bob replied, his voice completely calm and cool. "At the time I fully intended to take away his abilities with a virus. But I've recently had a change of heart."

Elle stared at Bob, slightly surprised. She didn't think he could do something like that to someone he had known for fourteen years. "He'll bust out, you know," she said. "And he'll come looking for revenge. He won't care about why you did it."

Bob nodded, "I know, Elle," he said simply. "I'm counting on that fact. That's why when he does escape; you'll have to stop him from killing me."

Elle smiled, "If I can. Dean doesn't always listen. If he's angry enough, there's nothing I'll be able to do to stop him."

Bob glanced at her, "It doesn't matter right now. It will be a while before Dean breaks out. It'll take time for him to gain control of his new pyrokinetic abilities. And by then, hopefully his anger will have died down. But right now we have more pressing matters in Costa Verde."

"What matters?" Elle asked curiously. She wasn't at all concerned about Dean; he could take care of himself.

Bob sighed and glanced at his watch. "You remember Noah Bennet?" At Elle's nod he continued. "We need his daughter to cure someone of a virus. But obviously, he's not just going to give her up. We need you're help to succeed."

"Are we leaving now?" Elle asked eagerly, she could feel the electricity stir inside her, it was a feeling she enjoyed.

Bob shook his head as he rose from his desk and walked towards the door, "No, we need to stop by the lab and pick up a friend; he'll help us take Claire."

Elle stood up and followed Bob to the door. "Okay, daddy," she said. "Lead the way."


	8. Chapter 8

The prison guard paced in front of the man's cell, occasionally throwing a distrustful glance in the prisoner's direction. All the guards on duty were instructed to keep an eye on the prisoner and alert the police when he finally woke up. He had been asleep for quite a while now; a doctor had been brought in to check him out. He said it was just exhaustion.

The guard reached the end of the hall and turned, starting to walk back the way he had come. He took another glance at the prisoner. He found it hard to believe what he had heard about what happened at the airport. He had been told that the prisoner had shot fire into the air with no apparent source. He personally thought that the event had been fabricated by the long and treacherous grapevine.

He paused in his stride and looked at the prisoner warily. He had rolled over on the narrow bed, making a small groaning sound as he did so. The guard breathed an audible sigh of relief and removed his hand from his baton. The last thing he wanted was the prisoner to wake up – at least not on his shift. It was nearing the end of his shift. To pass the time he had started to give the prisoner nicknames. He knew all of the guards had.

The guard turned his head as the door to the cell block opened, "Hey, Colin." The guard said, turning back to face the prisoner. "Come to relieve me?"

"No," Colin replied, standing next to his colleague. "The police are coming here to question him; apparently this little human torch might be connected to a few murders around town." He nodded his head in the prisoner's direction when he spoke.

"Murders?" the guard asked, looking at the prisoner with newfound dislike.

"Uh-huh," Colin nodded. "I just needed to see if he was awake yet; but since he obviously isn't…"

The guard smiled. "We're lucky he's even alive. You know what setting the taser was on?"

"Okay then, Shaun." Colin said curiously. "Humour me."

"I heard it was on maximum voltage; the man should be dead right now."

Colin snorted, "Well that's an exaggeration; you of all people should know not to listen to gossip."

Shaun shrugged, "I'm not exaggerating. My daughter works at the info desk, so I went there right after the entire thing happened to check on her. The guy who tasered flame boy was getting torn into by his boss; he was told to be more careful and to always check the settings. He even said that if flame boy died, he'd be fired."

Colin whistled and looked almost admiringly at the prisoner. "Damn…and the doc said he was only sleeping; nothing wrong with him or anything?"

Shaun shook his head, "No, nothing at all."

Colin whistled again, "You'd think he's used to being tasered." He glanced at Shaun, noticing the uncertain expression on his face. "I wasn't being serious, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just…" Shaun began hesitantly.

"It's just what?"

Shaun looked at his colleague and then glanced back at the prisoner, "Sometimes…I see this bluish light coming from him," he said, nodding in the prisoner's direction. "Like a spark travelling across his body; but when I look back…it's just gone."

Colin stared at Shaun before he burst out laughing, "A spark?" He said in-between bouts of amusement. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I'm serious, Colin." Shaun said grimly.

"And I'm serious when I say this is what happens when you work sixty hour weeks."

Shaun sighed and shook his head in frustration. He knew what he had seen; it wasn't just the long hours or his tired eyes. "So," he said, changing the subject. "When were the police gonna get here?"

Colin checked his watch, "Ah…they should be here now. I dunno what they're gonna do when he isn't even awake yet…oh, maybe not."

As if responding to Colin's words, the prisoner sat up on the narrow prison bed, rubbing his neck where the taser needles had struck him. He stared at his surroundings with bleary eyes, eventually resting on the prison guards. "What's…what's going on? Where am I?"

"You're in prison, sunshine." Colin said mockingly, leaning in closer and holding the bars to the cell. He frowned as the prisoner's face rapidly lost all of its confusion and was replaced by calm certainty.

Shaun's eyes widened in surprise as the prisoner grinned at Colin. He didn't have the look of someone who was caged; he looked like someone who knew that he wasn't going to be here long. The look of someone who knew he had a way out.

Shaun turned his head for a second time as the door to the cell-block opened. He watched as a man and a woman entered the block. They were arguing in undertones but Shaun still managed to catch a few of their final sentences.

"Just don't interfere with the interrogation." The man said irritably. Shaun immediately noticed the badge at the man's waist, clearly labelling him as the detective.

The woman was harder to identify; she wore a high-class designer outfit with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Of course," she answered the detective. "As long as you don't hassle my client; I don't care what you think he's done."

"_Lawyer," _Shaun thought, grinning in amusement. The detective seemed less then pleased at the lawyer's presence; while the lawyer looked towards her client with confidence, unbothered by the look of dislike directed at her by the detective.

"Open the cell." The lawyer demanded as she walked up to Colin.

Colin looked at the detective, waiting for his confirmation. The lawyer rolled her eyes and waited for the detective to nod his approval.

"I'm Detective Weatherly and this unpleasant woman is Sasha Todd, we're here to talk to Mr. Matthews," the detective said, gesturing for Colin to open the cell. "Well, I'm going to talk, Miss Todd is going to sit back and keep her mouth shut."

Shaun noticed the prisoner was watching the entire exchange with an amused smile on his face. He laughed quietly to himself, he had never encountered anyone quite like this prisoner; he wasn't worried at the prospect of being in prison. He wasn't even daunted by the appearance of the person who could keep him there for the rest of his life.

Shaun watched as Colin unlocked the cell door and stood back, allowing Detective Weatherly and Sasha Todd to enter. He waited until they were both inside and introducing themselves to the prisoner before closing the cell behind them. Colin nodded at Shaun as he left the cell block, closing the door as he went.

Shaun yawned and looked at his watch. He still had a couple of hours left on his shift, but they already looked as though they were going to be the most interesting and entertaining hours he'd ever experience in his entire career.

* * *

Bob navigated his way through the Hartsdale offices, heading towards the research lab. His daughter walked slightly behind him, barely noticing where they were heading. Bob would occasionally look over his shoulder at her; each time she had a look of deep thought on her face. 

They had walked in silence ever since their conversation in his office; both occupied by their own thoughts. Bob wished things could be different between them. He wished that he could just be her father and that she could just be his daughter. But things would never be that simple between them. It was a fantasy. He loved Elle and would readily give his life for her, but things would never be the way he wished they could be. Their lives were too complicated.

He slowed his pace as they arrived in front of the labs front entrance. He pulled out his key card and began to swipe it through the automatic lock.

"Hey, dad," Elle said as she stopped behind her father and looked up at him. "Costa Verde is the place with the sun and the pools and the beaches, right?"

"Yes," Bob answered. "But you won't be doing any swimming, though." He wished he didn't have to tell his daughter she wasn't able to swim; but he knew what would happen if she let out a charge in the water.

"Oh, I know that," Elle answered, shrugging as if the comment meant nothing to her. "It's just if we are going to a place with beaches, I'd like to pack some stuff."

Bob smiled at her, "Go ahead." Elle smiled and hugged him briefly before walking back the way they had came. "Just remember, we're going there for business, not a vacation."

Elle waved a hand over her head, acknowledging his words. Bob smiled after her as she rounded a corner, heading downstairs to where her bedroom was located. He waited for a moment before swiping his card through the automatic lock a second time and entered through the now unlocked door.

He walked down a hallway, passing a group of workers who were replacing a door Niki had broken down when she was being manipulated by Maury Parkman. He emerged into the lab's waiting room; the place where Dean had stopped one of Niki's rampages.

He glanced briefly around the room; Dr. Suresh wasn't here; Bob never really expected him to be. He took one last look around the waiting room before moving towards a lab technician in the sample's room. The tech had the sample's refrigerator open and was depositing vials with clear liquid in them, while removing the vials containing the experimented strain of the virus and sealing them for disposure.

Bob cleared his throat when he entered the room, drawing the technician's attention. "Dr. Anderson," he said as he crossed the distance towards the startled doctor. "Is Dr. Suresh in today?"

"Ah…no, I believe he left a few hours ago," Dr. Anderson replied, closing the samples fridge and turning his full attention onto Bob. "I can call him and ask him to come back if you want?"

Bob shook his head, "No that won't be necessary. I'll contact him myself later. There is something I need you to do for me, hopefully things won't come to this but it's always best to be sure."

"Sure of what, sir." Dr. Anderson asked.

Bob looked at him calculatingly. Dr. Anderson was the lab technician Bob trusted most, he had been with The Company almost since its founding and so far had never let him down. "You know about my business in Costa Verde," Bob stated in a low voice making sure they weren't being overheard. "If Dean shows up looking for me or Elle; do not under any circumstances tell him where we are."

Dr. Anderson nodded, "Okay, sir. I won't tell Dean a thing. But…what do I do if he starts harassing the other staff. I'm assuming that he'll come to me first, but when he doesn't get what he wants; what do I do?"

Bob reached out a hand, grabbing a taser off the top of side table. He handed the taser to Dr. Anderson and said, "Do what's necessary."

Dr. Anderson held the taser in an inexperienced grip. He looked uncertain; Bob knew he had never used a taser, or any kind of weapon before.

Bob started as his cell phone began to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at Dr. Anderson. "Can I count on you, doctor?" He asked as he checked the caller I.D.

"As always, sir." Dr. Anderson replied, hanging the taser at his waist; his voice was now calm and certain, completely set on his decision.

Bob nodded and held the phone to his ear. "What is it, Elle?" He asked good-naturedly.

Elle responded sweetly, her words making a small smile form on Bob's lips. "Have you seen my floppy brown sunhat?"

* * *

"Come on, Dean," Detective Weatherly said exasperatedly. "It's been over a day now, when are you gonna give me a straight answer?" 

"What do you want me to say?" Dean said calmly, not the slightest bit concerned by Detective Weatherly's anger. "I've already admitted to killing Will at the docks; what more do you want from me?"

Detective Weatherly leaned in close to Dean, raising a finger and waving it threateningly in front of Dean's face. "I want to know about Ricky McKenna's murder; I want to know about the flamethrower attack you pulled at the airport. And above all else, I want to know how you managed to do all of these things."

"That's quite enough, Anthony," Sasha interrupted. "I've told you before, do not hassle my client."

Detective Weatherly sighed in frustration, running a hand over his face in an attempt to calm down. He sat down in his abandoned chair and tried a different approach. "Tell me a little bit about yourself, Dean."

Sasha looked at Detective Weatherly, slightly surprised by his words. She was expecting him to ignore her completely and carry on his pursuit of answers. She grinned slightly to herself; he was finally learning.

Her client looked surprised and more then a little bit amused by Anthony's words. "Well, you won't be able to write a book about my life," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "What'd you wanna know?"

"Oh, anything really," Detective Weatherly replied. "Where'd you grow up, friends, high school experiences, stuff like that."

Sasha watched as Dean looked up at the ceiling, thinking about what to tell them. "Ah…well," he began, glancing between both Anthony and Sasha. "My name's Dean Matthews, I'm a Scorpio, twenty-four years old. When I was ten I was taken to a facility in New York, I grew up there. The only thing I remember about my parents was them saying goodnight to me when I was nine or something. My best friend – my only friend – is a sadistic sociopath with paranoid delusions; but she thinks that the shrinks only diagnosed her like that because she threatened to kill 'em."

Sasha and Anthony both watched Dean speak with growing bewilderment. They had both never encountered someone like him before; never in both their long careers as a detective and a criminal defence lawyer. Dean was an enigma to them, they just couldn't read him.

"Ah…I never went to high school, never been to a prom, never been on a date…and that's pretty much everything anyone can know about me. Sorry, I'm not more interesting then that."

Sasha stared at her client, completely dumbfounded; she knew the same expression was on Anthony's face too. Dean smiled at both of them and leaned back against the wall of cell, fully aware that he had caused the stunned silence in the cell. Even one of the prison guards was looking at him with his mouth slightly open.

Detective Weatherly stood up and glared at Dean. Sasha knew that he thought Dean was lying to them. "That's enough for now," he said, signalling for the guard to let him out of the cell. "Maybe you'll be more co-operative later."

Sasha stood and followed Detective Weatherly out of the cell. "Something's wrong, Anthony," she said to him. "I don't think he's entirely guilty."

Anthony turned around and faced her; frustration was clearly present in his voice. "Of course he's guilty, how can he not be. You heard what he said about his childhood. It basically screams killer."

"I'm not disagreeing," Sasha replied. "I'm just saying that something's different about this case. Deans not acting like the typical psychopath."

Anthony sighed, "Listen, Sasha; you're a lawyer, not a cop. It's my job to find out if he's guilty or not. And it's you're job to defend him. When I want your opinion on the case, it'll be when hell freezes over."

Sasha crossed her arms and glared at Anthony angrily. It had always been this way between them, ever since school. She watched as Anthony turned around and made his way out of the cell-block.

She looked towards her client; he was staring at the opposite wall, a bored expression on his face. She turned to walk back into the cell when he sat bolt upright on the bed; his vague expression turning into a terrifying mix of shock and fear.

When he spoke, Sasha could hear the mix of shock and fear in greater force, now accompanied by agonising worry and panic.

"Elle?!"


	9. Chapter 9

Dean watched as Detective Weatherly sat back, completely taken aback by his words. Dean smiled and leaned back against the wall of his cell. He was fully aware that he had caused the look of shock on the detective's face. And judging by his lawyer's silence, she was shocked too. He wasn't surprised or even the littlest bit concerned; it was the reaction he was expecting, the reaction he was hoping for.

Detective Weatherly stood up and glared at him. It was obvious that he thought he was being lied to. Dean felt like laughing; the sad thing was, he was telling the truth, every word. In a weird way, it was incredibly funny to him. It was hard to believe that anyone could have a childhood like that. But Dean considered himself well off. It was better life then most. He didn't care that he was twisted because of it.

"That's enough for now," Detective Weatherly said as he signalled for the guard to open the cell. "Maybe you'll be more co-operative later."

"_Oh, I doubt it."_ Dean thought as he watched Detective Weatherly walk out of the cell. Dean was slightly surprised when Sasha followed him. She always stayed behind to talk about the case after every interrogation. Dean was always amused when they called it an interrogation; they weren't hurting him when they asked questions. They hadn't even tried to.

"Something's wrong, Anthony," Sasha said to Detective Weatherly. "I don't think he's entirely guilty." Dean turned his head to look at the two. They were speaking in low voices, he could barely hear them.

He watched as Detective Weatherly turned around and faced Sasha. Dean could hear the frustration in his voice. "Of course he's guilty, how can he not be. You heard what he said about his past. It basically screams killer."

"I'm not disagreeing," Sasha replied. Dean frowned slightly, she was meant to be defending him. "I'm just saying that something's different about this case. Dean's not acting like the typical psychopath." Dean grinned, his frown disappearing; now she was doing her job.

Detective Weatherly sighed, "Listen, Sasha; you're a lawyer, not a cop. It's my job to find out if he's guilty or not. And it's you're job to defend him. When I want your opinion on the case, it'll be when hell freezes over."

Dean's eyebrows rose. He wasn't surprised when Sasha crossed her arms and glared at Detective Weatherly angrily. It was a low blow. If it were him; he'd probably have given him a little jolt. Dean sighed, well he'd at least set his jacket alight. He sometimes forgot that he didn't have Elle's ability anymore. He'd had it for so long; it would take time for him to get used to the fact that he was now pyrokinetic.

He looked against the opposing wall as he listened to Detective Weatherly leave the cell-block, he was already starting to get bored and it must be showing on his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his lawyer turn around and begin to walk back into the cell. Well, maybe not so boring after all.

He sat bolt upright as the sound of a gunshot reached his ears; a look of shock appearing on his face. He gasped as a fleeting vision passed over his eyes. He watched as Elle staggered back, holding her right arm; a look of intense pain on her face. The vision imprinted itself in Dean's mind, causing rapidly growing fear to join his shocked features. "Elle?!" He exclaimed; his tone filled with panic and concern.

He leapt off the bed, clenching his fists as unstable flames began to engulf his hands. This time he didn't try and stop it. It was dangerous doing this; he hadn't had the chance to practice controlling the flames. If he needed to, he wouldn't be able to shut it off; he could easily be overcome by them, just like at the airport. But he didn't care anymore; his mind was only focused on one thing.

He raised his hand as one of the prison guards came at him, wielding a baton threateningly. A stream of flames gushed out of his palm, striking the guard full in the chest. He stepped out of the cell, flames still pouring out of his hand. Other prison guards were staring at him wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. His lawyer had disappeared somewhere; no doubt she had taken her chance to get out of the cell-block.

The stream of flames cut off; leaving the charred and smoking corpse of the prison guard slumped against the opposite wall. Dean turned his head, looking towards the astonished group of guards by the cell-block entrance. They had all heard about what happened at the airport, but none of them had actually believed it. And now they were faced by a man who could do something they never thought possible.

The smoke from the prison guard's body drifted up towards one of the prison's smoke detectors on the ceiling. Dean looked up as the alarm started beeping, causing the fire sprinklers to cascade water down into the cell-block.

The fire around Dean's hands began to weaken and die. He stepped back, trying to bring the flames back to their original strength. He couldn't weaken now, otherwise his entire escape attempt would fail and he wouldn't be able to get to her. He tried to focus on his anger, his worry. It was hard for him to control new abilities at first. That's why he always stuck to Elle's electric manipulation. It wasn't the only power he was able to fully control, but it was by far his favourite.

His eyes were drawn to the group of prison guards; one of them had taken advantage of Dean's struggle to activate the warning alarm. Dean's head jerked as the piercing sound rose above the fire alarm. Panic surged through his body, causing the flames to regain their strength, burning just as furiously as they did at the airport. He pointed his burning hand towards the guards, allowing the flames to stream out from his open palm.

Dean stepped forward, driving the guards back with his flames. He didn't care who he hurt anymore; he didn't care who saw what he could do. He was sick and tired of The Company and their plans. If they hadn't stuck him here he could have stopped whatever happened; or at least taken the bullet for her. There was a reason why he was left here and when he finally got out; he was going to find Bob and get his answers. And then he was going to kill him.

The guards turned and rushed out of the cell-block as the inferno pouring from Dean's hand drew closer to them. Dean grimaced and walked towards the door. Things weren't going as he thought they would; he expected the flames to be impossible to subdue, just like every other power he absorbed. But it was an effort just to keep the flames burning. It wasn't because of the sprinklers; it was just different, like something else was holding the ability back.

He gasped for breath as the flames suddenly died, the fire disappearing from his hands, leaving him feeling cold and empty. Dean stared down at his hands, trying desperately to reactivate his ability. The fact that he was soaked to the skin wasn't helping; he needed to get away from the sprinkler system.

Dean looked around the cell block, giving it a good once-over for the first time since he got here. His was the only cell in the area. It didn't strike him as what a prison would actually be like. It seemed more of a holding cell really. But then again, he had never seen what one looked like before. But at The Company, you were always taught one thing: No matter what the building, there is always a back door.

Dean glanced back at the cell-block door; if he acted too rashly he would be taken out by the guards. He couldn't stop bullets; he couldn't even stop taser needles. It didn't help that he was in a particularly hasty mood. He breathed deeply, remembering the next part of the lesson: If there isn't a back door, make one.

Dean looked around the room again; he couldn't melt concrete, not matter how much fire he threw at it. He smiled as he recalled the final part of the lesson: And if you can't make a back door, bust your way through the front. He was in the mood for a full on fight, he hadn't had one for a long time. Those two idiots in the alley didn't count.

Dean walked towards the cell-block door, peering through the opened gap and examining the rush of people and prison guards. Most of them were holding guns or tasers and they looked like they knew how to use them. The only good thing about it was the room looked like a foyer. If he was lucky, he wouldn't have far to go. Dean breathed out, trying to calm his nerves. It did nothing to appease the deep pit of worry and fear in his stomach.

He closed his eyes, holding his hands out in front of him. He squeezed his fists closed and opened them back up again to flex his fingers. He didn't understand why he was having so much trouble with this; was it his emotions? No; he normally let his emotions loose, he barely ever guarded them. His ability had never done this before.

Dean smiled in relief as flames burst into life around his hands once more. He started forward, kicking the door wide in mid-step. As he cleared the doorway, he moved his entire arm in an arc, sweeping flames wide around the room.

Yells of shock and pain reached his ears over the roar of the flames. He was aware of bullets being fired blindly through the blaze. Dean moved against the wall, continuing to create burning arcs around the foyer. He knew that he would be safe from direct fire as long as they couldn't see where he was. Dean laughed slightly; he might just get out of this alive after all.

He was aware of the sprinkler systems activating all over the foyer; he wasn't worried about that, by the time they managed to dampen the flames, he would already be gone.

He waved his hand, attempting to send out another stream of fire into the chaotic mess. He stopped, staring at his hand dumbly as the flames flickered out. "Oh, crap, not again." Dean yelled, clenching his fists in fury.

He broke into a run, not bothering to worry about who caught sight of him. The sprinklers were already weakening the flames. He could see people pointing at him; some were even starting to direct weapons towards his running body.

Dean grunted as something hard crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. He skidded across the ground, stars flashing in front of his eyes. He could feel a trickle of blood running down his face. Through his blurred vision he saw a prison guard raise his gun in preparation to shoot.

Dean raised his hand and flexed his fingers. It was more instinct and habit then anything. His head hurt and he was probably concussed; he just wasn't thinking straight. Normally, in his line of work, when someone stood over him like that, he was about to be shot, kicked, punched, tasered, spat on or about to be subjected to someone else's power. He had gotten used to using his ability in situations where he needed to protect himself. It normally worked too.

Blue light surrounded around his hand as a bolt of lightning burst from his palm. It encompassed the prison guard in blue light, blowing him back against an opposing wall in a rush of sparks.

Dean stared at his hand in shock, of all the things he'd been expecting to happen, this was running up last; right along with the prison guard accidentally shooting himself. He didn't have Elle's power anymore. How was this happening? He didn't have time to think about what had just happened. And even if he did, he wouldn't be able to come up with an explanation.

He staggered to his feet and looked around with bleary eyes. The foyer was still a mass of flames and confusion; piercing sounds and bright lights. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision.

The guards along with several police officers were blocking the main entrance. They all held guns, one of them even had a shotgun propped over his shoulder. Dean glanced around desperately; he needed to get out of this mess now.

He spotted a window to his right. He didn't even stop to think. He went for it. He didn't know what floor he was on; he didn't even know if the building had an upper floor. He didn't care anyway. There were really only two options left for him: Jump out the window and maybe break a few bones; or rush at the main entrance and get shot repeatedly.

His feet pounded against the floor, he felt a bullet streak past his head, making his hair flutter in the passing wind. Dean increased his pace. It all happened in an instant. He jumped, straightening his body as he erupted through the window in a shower of glass.

The sensation of falling overcame him. He had had the dreams that everyone experienced of falling out of your bed. And like everyone else, he had woken up just before he hit the ground. But this wasn't a dream and this time he was already awake.

Dean groaned as his body crashed heavily against the street below. He could hear shouts coming from back inside the prison. He pushed down with his hands, wincing as the shattered glass dug in and cut his skin. Every part of his body seemed to be aching. His head was hurting so badly he thought he was going to collapse.

He rose shakily to his feet, nothing seemed to be broken. He set off in a stumbling run, turning his head and ignoring the sudden rush of dizziness. He looked back at the shattered window. Dean laughed; he had just jumped from the first floor.

His laughter turned into a fit of painful coughing. Dean placed his hand over his mouth, struggling to draw breath. He fell against a wall, breathing heavily, trying to control the rash coughing.

Dean gasped for breath, spitting some fluid from his mouth. He leaned forward and examined the glob of spit. It was filled with scummy red fluid. Dean examined the hand he had used to cover his coughing; it was covered with the same blood.

Dean swore and spat out another globule of blood. He struggled not to laugh again; things weren't going exactly how he planned. He expected to be all banged up and cut, he even expected to break a few bones. He didn't even think that he'd start coughing up blood.

Dean pushed himself off of the wall and continued his unstable run; he could here to police rushing out from the prison. He could hear the approaching sirens. He knew what he had to do now; somehow he had used Elle's ability, even when it had been replaced by Meredith Gordon's. What was stopping him from using another one he had had for a long time?

Dean rounded a corner, he could smell the salt of the ocean from his position, if he could just get there; he'd be gone. Already he could see the wharf not far ahead of him.

Dean stumbled to a halt as a figure appeared in front of his vision. He hadn't heard her approach, he hadn't even been aware that she was near him. His eyes tried to focus on her through his blurred vision.

"Here," the woman said, pushing some items into his grasp with a gloved hand. "These are yours."

Dean started as he recognised the voice. It was Sasha. He peered down at what she had given him: his wallet, cell-phone, necklace; everything that had been taken off of him when he was arrested.

"Why?" He asked as he quickly deposited the items around his person.

Sasha shrugged and stood back, "Doesn't matter. Now go, Dean."

Dean nodded and ran, his feet pounded against the hard surface of the wharf.

He jumped.

The air rushed by his face as he rose through the air, high above the wharf below. Dean let out a small laugh; he couldn't believe that had actually worked. It had been years since he had last flown, he had forgotten the exhilarating rush as his feet left the ground, defying the pressures of gravity. He had kept this ability for three years before circumstances had forced him to absorb Elle's again.

He didn't understand how this was happening. First he shot electricity when he didn't even have the ability absorbed and now this.

He ignored the questions flashing through his head. Now that he was in the air, there was nothing the police could do to bring him back. He straightened his body and increased his speed. He had to find her.

* * *

Sasha Todd looked up at the sky, her eyes following Dean's rapid flight. She knew he didn't deserve to be in prison; not when there was something else he needed to do. Maybe someone he needed to save. She didn't know and quite frankly, she didn't care. She knew what she had wanted to do and she had done it. She had helped one of her own. 

She turned around as she heard pounding footsteps behind her. "A bit late, aren't we?" She smiled as her old friend and constant rival Anthony Weatherly skidded to a halt in front of her, his gun hanging uselessly at his side.

"Why didn't…why didn't you try and stop him?" He asked, gasping for breath, it was obvious he had run all the way from the prison. Sasha's smile widened, she didn't have to run; she never had to run anymore.

"I'm a lawyer, not a cop," she said. She laughed as Anthony's expression turned from anger and disappointment into open bewilderment and disbelief.

"…What?" He said, his tone mirroring his expression exactly.

Sasha laughed again and patted his shoulder, leaving him staring at the sky, completely and fully flabbergasted. She began to walk past the massing crowd; they had all seen Dean's flight and were staring after him, completely astonished. Sasha grinned; they were all too stunned to notice that she wasn't producing any footsteps in her high heels. No one noticed that her feet were levitating an inch above the ground.


	10. Chapter 10

Peter sat back and closed his eyes, letting his mind run through his dream once more. He was still unable to make sense of it; different scenes had played out in front of him and he didn't know what to think. He knew it wasn't just a normal dream; he'd had ones like it before. Like the time he dreamt of his explosion in New York City.

He could remember every aspect of the dream in full detail. He remembered every scene; every single little film cut vision. He'd been trying to focus on the flashes at the very end of the experience. They had gone by so quickly he had barely been able to register them; but he was still able to remember each image fully.

He mentally ran through all of the images one by one: Hiro standing in front of his father's grave; Mohinder asking Noah for Claire; Elle clutching her arm and Caitlin patting Dean on the shoulder, welcoming him to hell. He couldn't find a connection between the visions. They all seemed totally random.

Peter sighed. He knew several pictures had flashed in front of his eyes right before he had woken up, but they had moved passed too quickly for him to distinguish who was in them. All he saw from those rapid film cuts was a girl tied to a chair with blue light crackling over her body and a quick flash of someone falling from the sky.

Peter shook his head and focused on the image of Elle clutching her bleeding arm. He found it hard to believe that someone could shoot her. Well, he could see why someone would. She enjoyed hurting others and seeing them in pain. But in those four months he had been locked up, Peter had seen a different side to the sadistic sociopath. She was innocent, childlike, in a strange, twisted sort of way. Shooting her seemed cruel in Peter's mind.

He could almost hear the gunshot and Elle's cry of pain. Peter frowned as a face began to appear in his mind. It seemed so far away, yet just out of reach. He pushed towards it, struggling through what seemed like an ocean of distance.

The face cleared and an entire room appeared in Peter's head. He saw Dean leaning against the concrete wall of a prison cell; he was staring at the opposite wall with a bored expression on his face.

The scene and the image of Elle clutching her arm seemed to merge inside Peter's head. It was the only way he could describe it. He gasped at the image vanished from his mind. His eyes snapped open, coloured patches danced in and out of his vision, half-blinding him. He leaned forward, clutching his head in his hands. His head was aching. It was painful, too painful. It reminded him of the time when he had accidentally read Matt Parkman's mind in Texas. Though this headache was a lot worse and had come on seemingly from nowhere.

Peter leaned forward, massaging his temples with his fingers. He had this overwhelming feeling that something had happened, he just couldn't figure out what.

* * *

Elle jerked awake as a stream of water rained over her body. She gasped and flinched as the water splashed over her face and soaked her already wet hair. Her clothes were drenched and her feet were submerged up to her ankles in some kind of tub. She tried to move her hands but found her wrists restrained by chains. She looked at the chains in surprise before searching for the water's source. 

She pulled against the chains again as her eyes fell on Noah Bennet, replacing the sinks showerhead. He folded his arms and leant against the bench-top casually. He watched her struggle against her binds for a moment before saying, "I need to speak to your father."

Elle gripped the arms of the chair, "What, do you think this is my first day?" She asked; her surprise turning into anger. She turned her hands so her palms were facing upwards as she accessed her ability.

Electricity coursed through her body, conducted by the tap water Noah had sprayed on her. Blue sparks crackled inside the pool of water around her feet and surged back into her body.

Every limb in her body felt like it was on fire. The pain was so intense; she just wanted it to stop. Elle threw her head back and screamed.

* * *

Mohinder burst threw the door to the hotel room, his eyes searching desperately Bob. He had gotten here as quickly as he could after Noah and that flying boy had taken Elle. Things had gone completely wrong and it was his fault; he shouldn't have pushed to have the plan changed. Elle had told him it was a bad idea. And now all this had happened. 

Mohinder closed the door behind him and hurried into the hotel room's living room. He froze in surprise as he saw Claire Bennet tied to a chair, a tube carrying her blood into a half filled I.V. bag.

"Dr. Suresh," Bob said as he walked into the room, carrying a bag in one hand. It was clear that he had been gathering their things in preparation to leave. "Where have you been?"

"They've got Elle," Mohinder said quickly. "It was Bennet, he tricked us. He got this boy who could fly to knock her out and they took her."

"I know," Bob replied simply. He tried to sound calm and in control but Mohinder could hear the underlying feelings of worry in his voice. "He called; he wants a trade, Claire for Elle."

"When?" Mohinder asked.

"In two hours, at the Imperial Beach parking lot."

"What are we going to do?" Mohinder said. He knew Bob would have a plan; he wouldn't let Bennet get away with taking his daughter. Mohinder knew now that Bennet was wrong about The Company; they weren't as bad as he made them out to be.

"We are going to give him what he wants," Bob answered. "I am not going to let Bennet hurt my daughter." He said the last sentence with determination in his voice.

Mohinder cast a quick glance at Claire who was listening to their conversation with rapt attention. He lowered his voice and pulled Bob to the side, "You intend to kill him, don't you?"

"Yes," Bob replied. "I've done a lot of terrible things in my life, Dr. Suresh and I'm trying to make up for some of those mistakes. Claire's blood will be the first step in righting some wrongs. But as long as Bennet is alive, he will always be a threat to us."

Mohinder sighed and cast another look at Claire; she had turned her head away from them, now unable to hear their words. "Bennet will go just as far as you will to get Claire back. He'll be willing to kill all of us, including Elle."

Bob looked away and glanced at Claire, "If that does happen, Bennet will be a dead man walking."

Mohinder frowned in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"You remember Dean Matthews," Bob stated. "If the worst does happen; he'll be on the warpath until he puts Bennet in the ground. He cares for Elle deeply. They've been friends ever since we brought Dean to Hartsdale for testing."

"Testing?" Mohinder asked.

Bob nodded, "It was one of those terrible things that I'm trying to make up for."

"What'd you do?"

Bob looked away. Mohinder was surprised to see guilt flash across his face. He grabbed Bob's arm, "Bob, what did you do?"

Bob sucked in a deep breath, "Fourteen years ago, we bagged and tagged Dean Matthews. We took him from his home in Washington, D.C. and brought him to Hartsdale to study his ability. At the time we were very interested in empaths – we still are – but due to their extreme rarity, we were only ever able to find two: Dean and Peter Petrelli."

"I'm not sure I follow," Mohinder said. "Why would you feel guilt about a bag and tag? I thought it was standard procedure at The Company."

"It was what happened after, Dr. Suresh." Bob said, his voice rising, attracting Claire's attention once more. Bob glanced at her and lowered his voice again. "We were interested in the different aspects of an empath's ability: How they controlled their acquired abilities; how they absorb them from others. We were also very interested in how they are able to establish a metaphysical connection with another human being. We were originally planning on using Peter Petrelli for our tests, but his abilities were yet to emerge and he had already established a connection with his brother Nathan. So we looked for another with the ability. We started by looking through our bag and tag records, checking to see if any of them had had children since they were tagged. We eventually found Dean. He was ten years old and he was already using his abilities."

"He displayed his abilities when he was that young?" Mohinder asked, slightly surprised.

"Why does that surprise you, Dr. Suresh?" Bob replied, looking at Mohinder calculatingly. "Molly Walker was able to use hers when she was younger; so was my daughter. It's not as uncommon as you might think."

"Oh, of course," Mohinder said. He stopped speaking waiting for Bob to continue.

"Both of Dean's parents had abilities, although only his mother had been bagged and tagged. When we found them, we were surprised to see that Dean was successfully using both his parent's gifts, although only one at a time. We were also surprised when we realised that Dean was yet to make an empathic connection to anyone. So that night, Noah Bennet and his old partner Claude Rains took Dean and brought him to Hartsdale. It was only ever meant to be an overnight thing; we didn't want his two dangerous parents to come looking for him. We injected him with a radioisotope and did some minor tests to establish a vague baseline of his abilities. We then erased his memory of the night and took him back to his home."

Mohinder could hear the tone in Bob's voice. He could almost hear the words that were about to come out of Bob's mouth. And it horrified him to no end.

"His parents were both dead," Bob said as he tried to keep his voice calm and devoid of emotion. "We don't know what happened; the entire house was in shatters, the police were on their way. There was evidence of a struggle. Dean's parents had obviously tried to resist whoever killed them. There were frozen objects and overgrown plants everywhere. We set to work obliterating all traces of special abilities in the house and then we took Dean back to Hartsdale. I think there's still an alert out on his name, since he wasn't there when the police arrived."

"My God," Mohinder breathed out. He was regretting his initial impression of Dean from back at the lab. He had seemed cruel and cold; he had shocked Niki as though it was nothing. He didn't even look like he cared about what he had done.

Bob noticed the look on his face, "I know what you're thinking, but Dean's not the way he is because of what happened that night. When we took him back, his ability became erratic – it may have already been that way before we took him."

"And then you started the testing." Mohinder said; disgust was clearly present in his tone. He couldn't believe that The Company had experimented on a ten year old boy."

Bob nodded, "Yes, we took things slowly at first; we wanted to establish a more reliable baseline. He was only able to use his mother's ability at the time. The testing became more vigorous as we tried to get him to use his father's ability to influence plants and vegetation. It was a failure; he wasn't able to do it. The one of the technicians working on him decided to use a different tact. None of us knew about it until it was too late. The tech resolved to force the ability out by making Dean angry. He showed Dean photos of his parent's bodies and told him it was all his fault. He only got half the desired effect. He made Dean so angry that he accessed his mother's ability and unleashed it violently. He literally froze the technician solid."

Mohinder's eyebrows rose in shock, "He froze him solid?" He repeated disbelievingly. He had been told a story like that by Dr. Anderson after Dean had left the Hartsdale office but he hadn't named any names. Mohinder had thought it was just a story, he didn't think it was even a little bit true.

"Dean was out of control after that. We had to gas the room just so we could get near him. We had all of his memories erased – we wiped the slate clean, so to speak – and moved him into a more permanent room. We had to keep a careful eye on him when he woke up. I know when he did wake; he received a bit of a shock. Telling Elle to keep an eye on him really wasn't a good idea. He absorbed Elle's ability. And an electrically charged ten year old boy with no memories isn't the easiest to handle."

"What about the metaphysical connection you mentioned. Did Dean connect to Elle?"

Bob furrowed his brow in a look of deep thought. "Not back then they didn't. I'm not entirely sure about now. I don't even think they know anything about it." Bob sighed; it was obvious he had thought about this before. "We don't know anything about the empathic connection. We were never able to discover how they were made. So unless Dean figured it out, or it somehow happened by accident." Bob shook his head, clearly remembering his disappointment.

"And then you started to test his ability to absorb other abilities." Mohinder finished.

"Yes, though that stage of testing was over as quickly as it began. As before, Dean could only hold onto one power at a time, he couldn't recall past abilities. We tried to force his ability to develop further by rapidly switching him between several abilities. The continuous change to his DNA put incredible strain on Dean's body, causing him intense pain; he then started to cough up blood and at its worst, caused his lung to collapse. So we stopped and waited for him to progress naturally, to see if he could hold onto several abilities without the need to reabsorb. We don't know if it will re-enact the strain on his body; or even if his ability will develop that far."

Mohinder slumped down into an unoccupied chair, his mind racing over what Bob had just told him. He couldn't understand how anyone could put a child through that. It was clear Bob was trying to make up for those horrible actions. But it was also clear that no matter what Bob tried to do to rectify the mistake; he had still turned an innocent boy into the twisted and morally grey man he was today.

Bob looked at him for a moment before moving over to Claire and inspecting the now full I.V. bag.

Mohinder thought about what Bob had first told him about what happened to Dean's parents. If they were murdered, it was possible that by abducting Dean, The Company had saved his life.

"Come on, Dr. Suresh," Bob said from beside Claire. "We've got to get ready to leave. We're not coming back here after we retrieve Elle."

Mohinder stood and walked over to his bag. One of the first things he did was check that his gun was secure in its holster.

* * *

Dean soared over the endless blue of the Atlantic Ocean. He may have forgotten the exhilarating rush of flying. But he had also forgotten how boring it was when you fly over the same scenery for hours on end. It had given him the chance to think about what happened back at the prison. He was sure that he had over-reacted. It was probably just a stray thought of a bored mind. 

The image he had seen was strange in itself. He had never experienced anything like it before; it was almost like someone had forced it into his brain. Elle had clutched her arm; it was obvious she was in pain. He tried to deny that there was anything unnatural about it, but he knew he was kidding himself.

He had reacted to that image rashly, on impulse. He was planning on waiting for a moment when he could escape without setting off every alarm in Cork. But that didn't matter now, even though he was banged up and bruised; he had been able to use two different powers when he didn't even have them absorbed. He felt great pride in his accomplishment. He barely remembered the tests The Company preformed on him when he was ten. He only knew that they stopped when they were sure he couldn't hold onto more then one ability.

After the tests had finished, Elle had told him that he was sick for a couple of weeks. He didn't remember any of that, but that was probably because he actually was sick. And it was most likely because the tests had made him sick. It didn't really now anyway. If The Company had wanted him to know about it, they would have left him with his memories of the entire process.

Dean shook his head to clear away the beginnings of exhaustion and flew even higher into the sky, feeling the cool air against his skin. He gasped as a painful sensation rippled across his entire body, from his fingertips to his toes, his insides felt like they were contorting.

He felt himself fall, his hold on his flight loosening. Through his distorted vision, Dean saw flames beginning to rise around his hands. "No, no, no, no," Dean yelled into the air. "Not now, no!"

He could feel the pain disappear from his body, he didn't really care right now about that, the damage had been done. Dean breathed out, trying to remember how he had managed to fly in the first place. He couldn't control it, it had just happened. He plunged through a cloud; the sea seemed to open slightly, as if waiting for his impending collision.

He closed his eyes, renewed desperation clawing its way to the surface. His body began to slow its descent as the flames began to disappear from his hands. He froze in midair; hovering barely a metre above the Atlantic.

Dean looked around breathed a sigh of relief. He gasped for breath as the sigh quickly turned into a fit of coughing. He spat, feeling the taste of blood in his mouth. He watched as the red fluid hit the sea and quickly merged with the water. Dean spat again and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His fall had shaken him up, breaking his mask of control. He had come close to dying before, but never in a way like that.

He shook his head and continued to fly west. Somewhere, something was happening and he needed to get there before it resulted in a death. He didn't know how he knew; he just knew that the feeling couldn't be ignored.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean's feet hit the hard concrete of the Hartsdale building's roof. It had taken him much longer then he had thought it would to get here. When he had left Ireland he had been sure that he would end up somewhere north of New York; maybe Boston or Montreal. But when he had almost fallen into the sea, he had lost his bearings. He had continued west, straining his already tired eyes for any distinguishing marks in the distance. But he had started to fear that he was flying south-west and was heading straight towards the Bermuda Triangle. He personally thought that the legend was complete crap, but he had no desire to go anywhere near it, just in case.

His paranoia turned out to be unfounded, he had ended up somewhere near the US-Canadian border and half an hour later, he was in Hartsdale.

On that last half hour, he had thought a lot about what was going to happen. His initial rush of anger and worry had receded on his long flight and had been replaced with exhaustion. He was concerned about the fact that he had started coughing up blood. He wouldn't have been surprised if the events over the past couple of days had given him an ulcer. But he didn't think that was the cause. If he asked one of the Company techs about it and also mentioned what was happening to his abilities; they would tranquilise him and be on the phone to Bob before he even hit the ground.

Dean glanced around the roof, his eyes focusing on the entrance to the stairwell. He strode towards the door, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He still remembered what he had told himself when he had last returned here: It was best not to show any weakness in front of The Company members, they would eventually use it against you. It went for everyone, including himself. If someone showed weakness in front of him, he'd use it for his own advantage.

Dean stopped in front of the door and opened the door's keypad. He punched in The Company's security code and waited for the buzz signalling that his code had been accepted. He looked up at the top-right corner of the door and waved at the security camera. Security was a lot tighter now then it was four months ago. He had to wait for the people at the security desk to buzz him in. It wasn't enough to just have the code anymore.

Dean chuckled as he imagined what was actually happening at the security desk. They were probably on the phone to Bob – or whoever was in charge at the moment – to ask whether they should let him in. They always did what they were told or asked for permission; no matter what the circumstances. He smiled as the keypad lit up for a moment and the door clicked open.

He grabbed the door handle, pushing it down and opening the door. He stepped through, walking forward as the motion detector lights lit up as he passed. Barely anyone ever came up here. He himself hadn't for a while; the last time was when Bob had held this mock escort practice with him and Elle.

It had been a lot of fun for him, just for the chance to get out of Hartsdale without assignment orders. He hadn't taken it seriously at all. Bob had gone to visit Charles Deveaux, which meant that he had Elle had been given a free pass into the art exhibition downstairs. It had been quite an evening; Bob hadn't been there to monitor how much Champaign they had been drinking or anything like that.

Things had started to get really interesting when this woman came in and started yelling at the man who painted the exhibition; shouting that he had depicted her being hit by a bus. The man – Isaac Mendez – had no idea what she was shouting about. Isaac had followed her when she ran out of the exhibition and watched the painting's contents play out in front of his eyes.

Dean remembered his surprise when the entire event happened. He had wanted to stay behind and help inspect the other paintings; he had never seen a precog before. But Bob had ordered him to take Elle back to Hartsdale. He should have kept an eye on how much Champaign she had had during the exhibition. He had done as he was told and took her back. She had fallen asleep almost instantly; but he had come up to the roof to clear his head; the entire night's events had made him too restless to sleep.

Dean turned a corner and began to climb down a series of steps. He could hear ineligible voices echoing up from the lower level. _"Probably warnings,"_ Dean thought as he continued to descend; through the corner of his eye, he could see the lights wink out behind him, leaving the entire staircase in darkness.

Dean reached out and grasped the stairwell door leading out into the third floor. He pulled it open and stepped into the white corridors of the Hartsdale building. He continued to walk, his feet carrying him through the maze of corridors with the confidence that came from fourteen years of memory.

Most of The Company workers in the corridor didn't even look up from what they were doing; though the occasional few looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. He supposed that he must be a pretty startling sight with his bloodstained face and torn clothing, all of which were caused by his hasty escape from prison.

He paused at a corner, contemplating heading down to his room or carrying on towards the lab. He really wanted a shower and a change of clothes; but he also wanted whoever was in charge at the moment to be surprised when he barged his way in. That coupled with his worried feeling that something had gone horribly wrong somewhere made the decision for him.

Dean gazed longingly down the corridor to his left before continuing his way towards the entrance of the lab. He pulled out his wallet as he walked, searching its contents for his key-card. He stopped in front of the door, pulling out his key-card and swiping it through the automatic lock. Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise as the door clicked open. He had been sure that Bob would try and keep him as far away from the lab as possible after leaving him to take the blame for the murders.

He pushed the door open and entered the lab. Most of the lab technicians stared at him as he walked by. He noticed that most of the lab's previous occupants had left. He remembered all of their names. One stood out especially in his mind: Niki Sanders. He had fully intended to kill her to stop her rampage. Her eyes seemed to burn into him, revealing her inner conflicts and heart-wrenching sadness. He had held back, but had still knocked her out-cold.

Dean blinked and looked around the lab, struggling to replace his mask of composure. He knew who he needed to look for; there was no way that Bob would leave without telling him. _"If he's actually gone."_ Dean mentally corrected himself. It didn't really matter either way. Dean knew that Anderson would know what was going on; Bob told Anderson almost all of his plans.

He spotted Anderson talking to another doctor in one of the hallways. Dean grinned. The last thing Anderson would want was someone coming along and shouting Bob's plans in the middle of a crowded lab.

Dr. Anderson moved his head slightly, his eyes glancing over Dean. He turned back to the doctor before his eyes whipped back to focus on Dean. His mouth opened slightly in surprise. "Dean," he stammered, his mouth finally giving birth to words. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know," Dean grinned. Judging from the look on the other doctor's face, he had no idea what was going on. He certainly seemed surprised at Dr. Anderson's reaction to Dean's appearance. Dean nodded to him and continued loudly. "I just thought I'd stop by here and try and find out why I was left in Ireland."

"Now's not really a good time," Dr. Anderson replied.

Dean shrugged and addressed the other doctor, "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer. "Of course you don't."

Dr. Anderson sighed in frustration and gestured at the other doctor to resume his work. He grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him into his office. "What do you want, Dean?" He asked as soon as the door was safely shut behind them.

"Oh, didn't I make that clear?" Dean asked as he shrugged his shoulders again. It always helped to be as obnoxious as possible when dealing with The Company doctors. If they got angry enough, they were likely to let something slip. "Well, first off, I already know why I was left in Ireland, so don't bother answering that. Having someone take the fall is the best way to cover for someone else. What I really want to know is where the hell Bob went."

Dr. Anderson sat behind his desk and began to shuffle papers about his desk. Dean felt his smile slip. The obnoxious technique could work both ways, it was especially effective on someone as impatient as Dean. And Dr. Anderson knew it too. "Bob said you'd show up here," he finally said. "Though I am curious how you managed to arrive here so quickly."

"I flew." Dean said, his smile returning to its former place.

It took a moment for Dr. Anderson to figure out that he was being serious. "I take it you're not talking about planes."

Dean said nothing, Dr. Anderson knew full and well what he was talking about.

Dr. Anderson looked through his papers again before pulling out a folder with a flourish. "We want you to have your old assignment back," he said, ignoring Dean's questioning.

Dean frowned and grabbed the folder from Anderson's hand. He flicked through it, his staring at Sylar's photo with open hatred. "What happened to the other team?"

Dr. Anderson shrugged, "We found them dead at the border, black gunk down their cheeks and clogging up their insides. They were by a dead civilian border control. You know, if you weren't pulled off the assignment, you'd be dead in their place."

Dean looked up at Anderson in surprise. He wasn't concerned about the black gunk. He was smart enough to keep a good amount of distance between himself and Sylar; just as a precaution. "Where's Sylar heading?" Dean asked, mildly interested.

"Here, to New York. We don't want you to stalk him however, we want you to capture him and bring him here. It is what you do best." Dr. Anderson said the last sentance with recognisable sarcasm in his voice.

Dean closed the folder and tossed it on Dr. Anderson's desk. "How about you tell me where Bob went. And after I finish with him, I'll go after Sylar."

Dr. Anderson stood up, slamming his hands on his desk angrily. "This is serious, Dean. We can't afford to have you go gallivanting after Bob and Elle. They can handle themselves." He moved out from his desk, walking to stand right up to Dean. "Sylar is a real threat, what if he takes someone hostage? Molly Walker is living in New York, if Sylar finds her--"

Dean cut him off by grabbing his collar and slamming him against a wall, "Where'd they go?" He said angrily. As soon as Anderson had mentioned Elle, Dean knew that whatever he had seen in the prison had happened or was about to happen. Bob would take care of her, but it never hurt to have someone else to help.

"I can't tell you, Dean." Anderson replied through shaking teeth. Dean noticed he was trying desperately to grab a taser at his waist. "Bob ordered me not to; I don't care how much you shock--"

Dean cut him off again by slamming him even harder against the wall. "Where are they?!" He shouted. Through the corner of his eye, he could see other technician's stop and stare through the office window.

Dr. Anderson shut his mouth tightly, staring defiantly at Dean.

Dean's eyes narrowed. He removed his right hand from the Anderson's collar while tightening his grip with his left. He raised his free arm wide. Anderson's eyes widened in fear as Dean's hand disappeared in a burst of fire. "Where?" Dean repeated, holding a burning finger near Anderson's left eye. He struggled to keep the flames burning, it seemed like whenever he forced them out, they fought to die back down.

"They went to California." Dr. Anderson said, completely terrified; struggling even harder to get away from the flames. "A place called Costa Verde."

Dean smiled and dropped Dr. Anderson. He started to run, bursting through the office's door and smothering the flames with his clenched fist. He straightened his body, feeling for that familiar rush that signalled his flight.

As soon as his feet left the ground, he felt that familiar pain. He winced as his insides felt like they were twisting. He coughed, tasting blood in his mouth. He hit the tiled white floor heavily. The coughing was uncontrollable. He chocked on the blood in his mouth, struggling to draw breath. He could hear shouts from behind him along with heavy footsteps.

Black spots danced in front of his eyes from lack of oxygen. He slumped against the ground. he felt a hand press him tightly down on the floor, restricting his struggles. The last thing he was aware of was something sharp being jabbed into his neck.

* * *

Bob spread the bandage of Elle's arm, feeling her wince as the bandage applied pressure over her gunshot. He smoothed it over softly and stood up. Elle glanced at the bandage briefly before turning away. Bob noticed her solemn and distant attitude. He wondered what had actually happened when Elle was held hostage. 

He started as his cell-phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and began to walk away. He held the phone to his ear and spoke, lowering his voice so Elle couldn't hear. "What is it?"

"Dean showed up, sir." Dr. Anderson replied. His voice sounded strained, it was obvious that Dean had done something stressful over in the lab.

"What'd he do?" Bob asked, glancing back at Elle, checking to see if she could hear him.

"He used two different absorbed abilities." Dr. Anderson said. "Flight and pyrokinesis. It resulted in the same negative effect as it did fourteen years ago."

"His lung collapsed?"

"Yes, he was coughing up blood before that too. It'll only get worse if he keeps switching between his abilities. We sedated him and repaired his lung, but you'll have to explain it to him when you get back."

"Good work. Make sure you keep him dosed." Bob said. "Oh and contact Lily, she'll be able to fill in the gaps for Dean." He removed the phone from his ear and replaced it in his pocket. He looked back at Elle. She looked deep in thought, a troubled expression on her face.

Bob frowned and tried to ignore his fatherly concerns and focus on Dean's apparent power development. He knew that when a person's power grew, the change was almost instantaneous. But when it did, it was unreliable, dangerous to the wielder and everyone around them. From what he heard about Dean's, it seemed like he was skipping the need to reabsorb other's abilities.

He remembered what had happened fourteen years ago. Dean couldn't handle the rapid changes to his DNA, causing his body to shut down. Bob had hoped back then that if Dean's ability developed, his body wouldn't be affected when his DNA changed to match the absorbed ability. It was obvious there was no such luck.

When he got back to Hartsdale, there would be more tests performed on Dean. Bob shook his head and smiled. If Dean was there to test; something that had quickly become apparent to him when Dean grew up was that he was both smart and resourceful. He didn't think that anyone would be able to hold Dean if he wanted to get away.

Bob glanced at Mohinder. He was staring at the gun. He was shaken by what was obviously his first kill. Bob was pleased by Mohinder's reaction. It proved that he still cared, that he felt guilt about what he had done. If it were Elle or Dean that had killed Noah; they wouldn't give it a second thought.

Bob looked at his daughter again. If Noah had even mentioned the testing preformed on her when she was a girl; it would unravel everything that Bob had fought to keep hidden. It would tear everything apart.

The first seed of rebellion is distrust.


	12. Chapter 12

Elle stared directly ahead of her as her father tended to her gunshot. She tried not to think about what had happened when she was captive. Her father wouldn't let that happen to her. He wouldn't let them test on her. But every time she denied it, the doubt seemed to come back in greater force. What if he had? Did he really make her the way she was?"

"_I know all about your ability, Elle.__"_

She tried to block out Bennet's voice, she had told him he didn't know anything about her.

"_I was there; when your father first brought you in."_

Elle winced. Her father lightened his touch as he smoothed the bandage over her arm. She felt like laughing, he thought that her gunshot was causing her pain. He didn't know what was really going on inside her head. She didn't mind pain – physical pain, at least – it was Bennet's polluting words that had caused her to finch. What if…?

"_You were a normal girl, unicorns and rainbows. And then they started the testing."_

She glanced at the bandage then looked away. Unicorns and rainbows; was she really like that once? A sweet, innocent little girl? Was she the way she was now because of what they had done. Had they changed her from the innocent girl into the sadistic woman she was today? What did they do to her? Did they…?

"_The human brain isn't built to take that much electricity. You poor girl."_

Elle watched through the corner of her eye as her father stood up and pulled his vibrating cell-phone from his pocket. Was that Dr. Anderson telling him that a testing room was ready? No! Her father wouldn't do that to her he would never let that happen. She had said that to Bennet, she had been sure then, but now...

"_Your father was leading the charge."_

Bennet's words were like an infestation cockroaches. No matter how many times she exterminated them; they kept coming back. She had been told once that people often trusted the word of complete strangers over the people they trusted. Was that happening now? She had said she didn't remember any of it. But what if…?

"_No memories, huh; kind of like someone took them away."_

Did her father get the Haitian to do this to her? Just wipe everything away. She knew Bob could do it. He had done it to Dean. Was she really the way she was because of what he had done? She didn't believe it; she couldn't believe it. He wouldn't. She shook her head. She wanted to believe her father, what if he did?

She turned her head to look at Mohinder, trying to focus on something else. He was guilty, she didn't know why. Had she felt guilt before? She shot a quick glance at her father. Bennet's words were tearing everything apart. Everything she had been sure of was crumbling down around her and the seeds of doubt were growing inside her mind.

"_Why do you think I never let T__he Company anywhere near Claire?"_

Who else knew about the testing? Did everyone? Were they all laughing behind her back as she carried on her life without the knowledge of what had been done to her? Did Dean know about it all? When did it all stop? Did it stop? Doubt plagued her. Did Bennet lie to her? Did her father lie to her? Who could she trust? Bennet had no reason to lie, in fact, he'd benefit by telling her the truth.

She saw Bob glance back at her. She saw the concern on his face. Was he concerned for her well-being, as a father was concerned for his daughter? Or was he concerned by what Bennet might have said to her? No! He couldn't have done what Bennet had said. Could he?"

"_I didn't want her to become you."_

She hated Bennet; he had taken her life and polluted it. He had torn it to shreds. A few simple sentences and everything solid had crumbled beneath her. She didn't know who to believe anymore. She didn't know what to think. She glanced at her father again as he closed his phone. He had said that he was trying to make up for past mistakes. Was the testing so horrible that he took her memories of it away?

"_You'__d be surprised what a father would do for his daughter."_

* * *

Dean swallowed the handful pills and washed them down with a cup of water. He was forced to take those pills ever since he had woken up this morning; small doses which build up over time. The doctors had said that his lung had collapsed. Dean didn't know if they were lying to cover up something else, or telling him the simple truth. It didn't really matter though. He was stuck here and forced to take these stupid pills. 

He handed the cup back to the waiting doctor, opening his mouth so the doctor could check that he had swallowed the pills. The doctor nodded in satisfaction and left the room.

Dean slumped back against his pillows and regarded his room in the lab. It wasn't so bad, it was better then those holding rooms; they were essentially prison cells. He was surprised that he wasn't put in one of them, especially after what he did to Dr. Anderson. He regretted his actions. Dr. Anderson was one of the nicer Company doctors; he never treated him too badly. Dean resolved to apologise the next chance he got.

The door to his room opened again and a dark-haired woman walked in. Dean looked up as she walked in but as soon as he recognised her pretty features, he sighed and swore under his breath. This was one of the last people he wanted to see.

"Hiya, Dean." The woman said, smiling as she sat on the end of his bed. "You don't seem too happy to see me."

"Hey, Lily," Dean replied, meeting her cheerful eyes. Lily was a Company agent who specialized with internal conflicts. She was never sent on regular assignments and was mainly called in when there was an issue that needed resolving. Her ability was one of the main reasons why she was so good at it too. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, you know," Lily replied, swinging off the bed and walking towards his bedside table. "I heard you were here and just decided to drop by, feel what you're feeling; stuff like that."

Dean opened his mouth to protest as she grabbed his cell-phone off the table. Lily was probably the most cheerful person he had ever met. He thought her attitude matched her ability perfectly. He almost admired her. All around her she felt what other people's emotions and she still manage to keep her head up high. Empath was just the name that had been given to Dean's ability. But Lily was an empath in the truest sense of the word. She was in-tune to others emotions and was even able to influence them. He knew she had prevented several fights because of this.

He cut off from his thoughts as Lily started speaking. "Who's in your phonebook?" She said, more to herself then Dean. One by one she read the names on the list. "Bob, Candice, Eden, Elle, me- Hey, when'd you get my number?"

"When you stole my phone and put it in there." Dean replied good-spiritedly. He paused; he wasn't feeling this happy a minute ago. "Lily, stop it."

Lily looked up at him, "What?" She said in fake innocence. She met his stare before looking away. "Sorry, you're just so gloomy. Well, I guess I would be too if my ability was making me sick."

"What?" Dean asked in confusion.

'Your ability," she said as she flipped the phone shut. "Your body can't handle the changes to your DNA. It's making you sick." She watched him for a second; it was obvious she was reading his emotions. "I thought you knew."

"No," Dean replied, his mind trying to grasp what Lily was implying. "My ability was making me cough up blood?"

"And it collapsed your lung." Lily said. She paused again for a moment before continuing. "You know, you're taking this pretty well. Most people would have run off screaming…okay maybe not that badly, but they'd still be pretty freaked."

"Well, it makes sense," Dean said, shrugging his shoulders. He knew that Lily was influencing his emotions now, on the chance that he did start panicking. "I mean, I start pulling out abilities that I haven't even absorbed – reabsorbed – and then my body starts shutting down."

Lily smiled, clearly relieved that her ability was affecting Dean. "Yeah, though your reusing past abilities is strange. Half the reason I was called in here was to work it out with you."

"And the other half?" Dean asked almost flirtatiously. He grinned when he realised that Lily hadn't stopped her tweaking.

"To make sure you're calm so you don't go on another rampage and collapse your lung again." Lily said simply. "Though the pills will stop that; but better safe then sorry."

"Of course." Dean nodded agreeably. He was starting to get annoyed with Lily's constant manipulations. But every time a negative feeling appeared; it was washed away by Lily's modifications.

Lily pulled over a chair and sat down, leaning her folded arms across Dean's bed. She was careful not to come into contact with Dean's skin. He only needed someone to touch his bare skin to absorb their ability. "So, describe to me how you're switching between your absorbed abilities." She asked; her tone turning all business.

Dean frowned, he could feel the happiness brought on by lily begin to trickle away. Lily noticed his expression and smiled. Dean felt calm wash through his body again. "It's kinda like different abilities have a different part in my brain. Kinda like moving an arm or a leg."

Lily nodded in understanding. It was the same as her ability. It was just there, she couldn't really explain it; nobody could. "What abilities have you used since this entire development thing started?"

"Flight, pyrokinesis and electricity manipulation," Dean said almost immediately. "That's all. I dunno who I got flight from, but it carried on from when I last had it. I was able to fully control it. But the pyrokinesis is going weird. I can barely use it anymore, it just dies down."

Lily nodded again. She had been expecting that. "I think with your new 'skipping the need to reabsorb' thing. Your abilities are starting to vie for dominance – or whatever. I think that your most recent absorbed - or reabsorbed - ability immediately comes out on top and suppresses the others. That's why you can barely use your pyrokinesis and why flight comes so easily."

"Is that what they told you to tell me?" Dean asked.

Lily looked hurt, "No, Dean. That's my professional opinion. And it's probably right too."

Dean shrugged again. It didn't really matter to him. His abilities were playing up and as long as he knew what not to do, he'd be fine.

"Oh well, when we start testing we'll be able to discover what's making it go all weird."

Dean nodded, but Lily detected rebellion surging forward. She shouldn't have mentioned that. Dean knew what testing entailed.

"But that'll only be if Bob deems it necessary," she said quickly. "And he and Elle are off somewhere on a father, daughter plus Mohinder trip. I think Mohinder's coming back now though…" She broke off, finally noticing the worry that emerged from Dean when she mentioned Elle's name. "Why are you so desperate to find, Elle?" She asked, slightly surprised to hear faint traces of jealously in her voice.

Dean looked at her, not noticing her envy. "She owes me a haircut."

"Now you're just lying to me," Lily laughed. "It's kinda easy to tell with you. I know you, Dean. I know when you're lying; I know pretty much everything about you."

"You know all about me just from my moods?" Dean asked sceptically.

"Most of it; the rest is just observation. You know, I remember when you and Elle went on your first bag and tag training in Miami when you were sixteen. I remember when you got back; it was really awkward between the two of you. I felt uncomfortable being in the same room with you two. Then a couple of months later that went away and was replaced by a different feeling." She paused to give him a knowing look.

Dean looked away; he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Okay, so you do know a lot."

"Not just me. Bob installed a security camera in your room. Why do you think you got shipped off to Primatech, Texas all of a sudden? I know how pissed you were about that too." Lily laughed. "A fifty-fifty chance and you chose the wrong bedroom. Come on, don't tell me you never realised."

Dean scowled. The truth was he had connected the dots. He just couldn't figure out how Bob had known. He had been transferred to Texas the very next day. He didn't know what else it could have been. It was probably the reason why he was kept there for five years.

Both he and Lily looked up as one of technicians opened the door to his room. "Oh," the technician said. "Sorry, it's just, we found Sylar."

Lily stood up, her tone completely serious. Dean felt her manipulation over his emotions weaken and fade away. "Where is he?" Lily demanded.

"Cook Lake, Virginia." The tech replied. He's with a woman. She's the one who causes the black illness. She nearly killed him. He's apparently been teaching her to control her power."

"Maya Herrera," Dean said. "She and her brother Alejandro picked up Sylar in Mexico. From what I saw; her brother seems to be able to counteract the black illness."

"When were you going to tell us this?' Lily asked angrily. Dean frowned. He could feel Lily unconsciously tweaking again. It was one of the downsides to her ability. Her manipulations were greatly based on her own moods.

"Information is power, remember?" Dean replied casually. 'If you asked, I'd have told you."

Lily sucked in a deep breath. Dean felt the manipulations cease. He noticed the tech was looking relieved also. "Okay," Lily said calmly. She turned back to the technician. "Good work, go tell Anderson. Get him to contact Bob."

The tech nodded and practically ran out of the room.

Lily smiled in amusement and sat back down, regarding Dean calculatingly. "The pills will wear off by tonight; by then your DNA should be stabilised. You'll be able to risk a few ability switches, but no more then three. We need you to go after Sylar. Anderson told you that Molly Walker's in New York. That's where Sylar will go."

"Why me?" Dean asked her.

"Because you can get out of there with Molly if things get too hairy." Lily replied. "If Maya Herrera unleashes her ability, you may be able to absorb it and stay safe. If not, you'll have to kill her before she does. There's apparently warning signs before she unleashes her ability. That time will be crucial."

Dean regarded her, trying to mask his amazement at her rapid change from playful talking to full authority.

"It's not that impressive, Dean." Lily smiled. "Anyway, you won't be able to leave until the pills wear off tonight so. Hopefully you'll figure out how to pull Elle's electricity manipulation out. If not, well things will get really dangerous; really fast." She paused as she read his emotions. "You're conflicted."

Dean nodded; he really was unsure. He wanted to kill Sylar, he hated him more then he had ever hated anyone and protecting Molly would be the easiest way of doing it. He really wanted to protect Molly from Sylar. But he wanted to find Elle too; he knew something had happened to her. He knew that Bob would take care of her; her father would do anything for her. But he couldn't shake this feeling of unease. Not even Lily's ability was making it disappear.

"I don't know what to do."


	13. Chapter 13

Peter stared out the car's window, watching as the rough American landscape flashed by. Adam sat confidently in the driver's seat, his eyes focused on the long road ahead of them. They had spent the journey through the last few states in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts.

Peter's mind kept flashing back to the events in Maine. Adam had said it was necessary. Victoria was about to take Peter's head off. Peter agreed with him, though he didn't have to like it. Adam was adamant that there was no regenerating after a beheading. If that really were true; he owed Adam his life.

He was also thinking about back in that warehouse when he went back to the virus-ridden future. Adam said he hadn't moved, that he was staring into space and then started calling out Caitlin's name. Was that what happened when he went back to the day his mother had tea with Charles Deveaux? He had tried to do it again, but every time he had been unsuccessful.

"I had no choice, Peter." Adam said, glancing at him before turning his attention back to the road. It was the first words spoken in the car since they left Maine. Peter knew exactly what he was talking about. The subject had been pressing on both of their minds.

"I know," Peter replied. "It doesn't matter now; the only thing that matters is stopping the virus from being released."

Adam nodded and unconsciously pressed harder on the car's accelerator. "When we do get to Primatech, we'll have to make sure nobody knows we're there until it's too late. There are people at The Company who are more then capable of stopping us. Maybe it won't a problem for you; but just because I regenerate, it doesn't mean I'm invincible."

"Like who?" Peter asked curiously.

Adam thought for a moment, "Well, most won't be able to do it on their own. But if they came at us in a partnership…" He shrugged his shoulders. "You've met some of them: Elle, this man named Dean Matthews. A woman called Lily who can manipulate people's emotions. Any one of the remaining Company founders could stop us – Bob can do a lot more then turn things into gold…" He broke off, consumed by his thoughts.

Peter cocked his head slightly. He had promised himself that he wouldn't listen in to Adam's thoughts, but it was obvious Adam was hiding something. He turned his head, feeling for that odd sensation that came from reading someone's mind. He winced slightly as Adam's garbled thoughts jumped out at him, overloading him with various languages. French, Italian, Spanish, Japanese, Greek and many others Peter didn't recognise. Adam had lived for over four-hundred years; it only made sense that he would learn different dialects.

Peter frowned as scraps of English reached his ears. _"They can't stop me…nobody can."_

Peter straightened in his seat, severing the connection. He rubbed his temples, his head was aching painfully. He should have realised that Adam would have prepared defences against mind-readers. Thinking in different languages was obviously one of the most logical ways to do it. It was confusing and impossible to decipher; even for people who were fluent in all those different tongues.

"Are you alright?" Adam asked, glancing at Peter sideways.

"Yeah," replied Peter. "It's just a headache."

Adam laughed, "It'll pass. They always do."

His laughter cut off as a black truck cut in front of their car, forcing them off the road. Adam slammed his foot on the brakes, forcing the car to a halt before it crashed into the rocky landscape. Adam shut off the engine and pushed the car door open. He wasn't afraid of dying, it was doubtful anyway that crashing the car would take his head off; but he didn't want their only method of transportation broken and burned out on the side of the road.

Peter climbed out of the car, watching as Adam approached the two men now climbing out of the truck. One of them was big and hulking, while the other was smaller and pale. He noticed Adam pulling his shirt over the handgun tucked into the back of his waistline.

"What the hell do you think your doing?!" Adam shouted angrily. "You could have killed us!"

Peter watched as the smaller man pulled a handgun out of a holster at his waist and pointed it at Adam's forehead. "We could kill you now," the smaller man grinned.

Adam smirked and backed away, watching as another man climbed out of the truck. It was obvious he was the leader of the group. Adam immediately noticed the shoulder-length dark hair, the designer clothing and the bottle-shaped necklace. It was also immediately obvious what these men were: Drug-dealers. Adam's sneer widened, they chose the wrong people to force off the road.

Peter walked towards Adam, only stopping when the bigger man pointed his gun at his chest. Adam turned his head to look at him and said in a low voice. "Every minute we waste here is another minute someone has to release the virus."

The drug dealer's leader laughed, "I think that's the least of your problems now."

Peter glared at him, "What do you want?"

The leader shrugged, "It's simple really. I have a shipment of cocaine ready to be picked up. We need a decoy car, so we're taking yours."

"Like hell you are." Adam replied confidently.

The leader frowned, "Then maybe this will make you more co-operative." He gestured at the man who had his gun trained on Peter's chest.

Peter knew what was about to happen before his mind even registered the action. He clenched his jaw, concentrating on one of his absorbed abilities. He watched the man pull the trigger. He saw the flash of fire as the bullet left the gun's chamber. He felt the bullet fly through his body, streaking out from his back with full velocity. He shivered slightly as his body phased through the bullet.

For a moment there was complete silence. The drug dealers were looking at Peter with astonished expressions on their faces. The leader displayed the same shock, but his eyes were filled with recognisation. It was obvious he had seen someone phase before.

Adam took advantage of the smaller drug dealer's shock to grab the gun pointed at his forehead. He pushed the weapon away and pulled out his own gun from the back of his pants. "Whoops," he said mockingly as he squeezed the gun's trigger.

Blood sprayed from the smaller drug dealer as he fell backwards onto the road. The big man who shot at Peter shouted in fury and pointed his gun at Adam. His second bullet hit flesh, striking Adam square in the chest.

Adam stepped back, looking down at the bullet hole in his shirt. "Damn," he said as his regeneration forced the bullet out of his body. "That was a new shirt."

The bigger drug dealer's gun slipped from his nerveless fingers. He stepped back as Adam directed his gun towards him.

"What are you doing?!" Peter shouted at Adam.

Adam glanced at Peter before lowering his gun, shrugging his shoulders as if killing the first drug dealer and almost killing the second was a trivial matter. He watched as the bigger drug dealer turned around and ran, coving the distance back to the truck in a matter of seconds. He froze as another gunshot echoed through the air. The fleeing drug dealer fell forward, his blood spreading onto the highway.

Peter looked at the drug dealer's leader in shock. The leader lowered his own smoking handgun and returned Peter's stare. Even Adam looked surprised at the drug dealer's action.

"I don't employ cowards." The leader said simply, as if it that statement explained everything.

"So you just killed him?" Peter said, completely disgusted at the drug dealer.

The drug dealer shrugged at the comment, "I've met one of your kind before. He tried to be a hero; he did exactly what you did." He nodded at Peter. "But he just wasn't fast enough. He couldn't react quickly enough when I shot him." He laughed as he whipped his gun up and pulled the trigger, hoping for a lucky shot.

Peter thrust out with his hand. Blue light filled his vision as a ball of electricity burst out from his opened palm. The ball sped through the air, striking the drug dealer full in the chest. The drug dealer cried out as the force of the electricity carried him back, slamming him into the side of his truck.

Peter breathed out as the electricity died, leaving the charred and smoking corpse of the drug dealer behind. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He started and turned to face Adam. He held his gun loosely in his left hand; his face was fully composed, it was as if the events over the last few minutes were an everyday occurrence for him.

"Come on, Peter." Adam said. "Lets go, we've got a virus to destroy."

Peter nodded and followed Adam back to their car, leaving the entire scene behind them.

* * *

Elle slouched back in the driver's seat, staring sideways at the Bennet household. She wished she didn't have to stay in here and keep an eye on the cheerleader; it was beginning to be the boringest day of her life. She had even spent an hour trying to decide if boringest was actually a word. Not to mention it was getting far too hot and stuffy. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and wound down the window down a little more. Not that it was making much difference; it was nearly as hot out there as it was in the car. 

She moved her fingers across her sling, attempting to scratch her itching gunshot. She tried to ignore thinking about how much it itched. But the more she tried to avoid thinking about it, the more the gunshot seemed to irritate her. She sighed and with great effort, succeeded in removing her fingers from the bandage.

She twisted in her seat for a second time and leant her chin on her palm. The entire morning had gone on without a single event. The only thing she had had to watch out for was when fly-boy, West had flown over. She had been forced to lie across the other seat to avoid notice. She had spent the greater part of a minute trying to sit back up from her awkward position after West disappeared inside the Bennet house.

She reached across the other seat and grabbed her cell-phone. What Bennet had said to her had really struck home. She was finding it hard to trust her father now. But she knew he was right about the assignment. Getting shot was her fault. She had underestimated what Bennet was capable of and had paid the price. He had even told her. _"You'd be surprised what a father would do for his daughter."_ Her own father had rushed forward when she was shot. She didn't know if he had done it because that's what a parent was meant to do or because that's what he thought he should do. She never knew with him, one moment he was just her dad. And the next he was her boss.

Elle sighed and flipped open her cell-phone. Light reflected off the screen as she peered down at it in consideration. Her stomach was a flutter of unfamiliar emotions: Confusion, indecision. It was all Bennet's fault, she decided. Like a child she just wanted someone to tell her it was okay.

She glanced at the Bennet house again before she opened her cell-phone's phonebook and selected Dean's number. She was confident that Dean would be long gone from Ireland; he might even back in America by now. He was far too impatient to be held in a prison cell for very long.

She held the phone to her ear and listened to the little annoying ring. She thought about what she was going to say to her friend. He wasn't the best person to talk with about family problems. He'd listen, but he wouldn't have any good advice to give. It wasn't his fault; he had grown up without parents and all his memories of them had been erased. Elle knew it was her father's fault.

Elle frowned as she recognised the voice that came through the phone, it definitely wasn't Dean's.

"Hiya, Elle."

"Lily?" Elle asked. "Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he's sleeping," Lily replied in her infuriatingly cheerful voice. "He had a pretty strenuous morning."

Elle's brow furrowed in anger, she wished she was there so she could zap off the smirk that was almost certainly on Lily's face. They had never liked each other. Elle never really got on with other woman. She knew Lily was generally a nice person, but it still didn't change anything between them. "Just put Dean on, okay."

"I told you, he's sleeping. He's gotta busy night ahead of him."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I'm sure Bob'll tell you what's happening later. All you need to know is that we've got everything under control."

Elle looked towards the Bennet house, her stomach leaping as the front door opened. She quickly ducked down and whispered into the cell-phone. "Just…just tell him to be careful, okay."

"Aww, Elle," Lily replied mockingly. "I didn't know you were sentimental--"

Elle flipped the phone shut, cutting off Lily's final words. She breathed out and risked a peek through the car window. The entire Bennet family plus West were climbing into the family car; the cheerleader was holding the urn with the fake ashes inside.

Elle smiled to herself. She knew where they would be heading; there was only one reason to take the urn with them. Elle's grin widened. Maybe she'd buy a drink on her way.

* * *

Michael Donovan glanced around the darkened area of the roadside motel. He and his partner had tracked Sylar to this motel. It was getting late and he hoped that Sylar was still here. They had lost track Sylar for a few hours after they told Lily he was in Virginia. Michael was relieved when the motel owner recognised Sylar's photo. If they had to call Lily and say that they lost Sylar. Michael shuddered; he didn't want to think about it. 

He squinted into the distance; he could see the faint outline of his partner kneeling in front of Sylar's room. He was blending into the background, even Michael, who was used to his partner's camouflage found him hard to see.

The thing that gave his partner away was the two thin metal rods which were inserted delicately into the door's lock. It was one of the drawbacks of his power. He couldn't camouflage metal. It was just one of those things nobody could explain.

"How's it going?" He asked as he placed a hand on where he thought his partner's shoulder would be.

He felt his partner jump at the sudden contact. The chameleon-like camouflage shifted and warped. Michael stared down at his partners face as the camouflage lifted. "You scared the hell out of me!" His partner hissed.

Michael laughed, "There's no need to whisper; no-one knows we're here."

"And I'd like to keep it that way. What if Sylar's in there?"

"Don't worry, Tim." Michael replied, pulling his Company issue gun from its holster. "He's powerless, remember. Anyway, why should Dean get all the fun?"

"Because Lily told us to let Dean handle Sylar," Tim replied, leaning forward to examine the lock with renewed concentration. "Almost have it."

Michael smiled, "And do you always do what you're told?" He paused. "Don't answer that."

"She wants it to be him. A test or something." Tim said as he manoeuvred the lock picks slightly inside the lock.

Michael rolled his eyes, "You specials and your secret conversations."

Tim glanced at him and twisted the lock picks. The lock opened with a satisfying click.

Michael positioned himself next to the door, holding his gun at the ready, all of his joking instantly vanishing. He watched closely as Tim's hand curled around the doorknob, twisting the metal surface. Tim nodded at Michael as the knob twisted right around and stopped.

Michael gestured with his gun. Tim pushed the door open, releasing the doorknob almost instantly to allow Michael room to move in.

Michael took a step inside, his eyes searching through every corner of the motel room. As soon as his eyes fell on the bloodied corpse next to the bed, he lowered his gun . He knew who the dead man was. It was Alejandro, the girl's twin. There was no way Sylar would hang around here for long, especially not with the body beside the bed. "He's gone," Michael said to his partner keeping watch outside. "You'd better call Lily. She'll want to know."

Tim nodded and quickly grabbed his cell-phone out of his pocket. Michael looked down at Alejandro's body. "Well, Dean," he said into the air. "I guess you'll get your chance after all."


	14. Chapter 14

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward as he quickly laced up his shoes. He had been awake for a few hours now; long enough to clean himself up and prepare for the night ahead. His stomach was fluttering in anticipation. He knew it wasn't worry; he never experienced anxiety before an assignment. He knew the only reason he was feeling like this was because he'd finally get his chance to kill Sylar.

The Company didn't want to risk Sylar out in open anymore. Twice they had captured him and twice he had escaped. People said that third time's the charm; but the truth was simple. Sylar was a parasite and The Company was sick and tired of him leaving his trail of bodies behind. It was always easier to kill then to detain.

"I always thought you had a cute butt." Lily said from the doorway.

Dean smiled and finished tying his shoes. He straightened and turned around to look at Lily. Her eyes were curiously fluttering around his bedroom, seemingly taking in every detail. Dean was pleased to notice that she was keeping her ability to herself. He didn't know why she was so interested in his room; there was nothing special about it. It was just the average blue and white walled Company room. He didn't even have a single poster. It was essentially just like a cell down in lockup; apart from the mess of possessions and discarded clothes lying around the floor and covering his desk and bed.

"Haven't you been here before?" Dean asked, watching her as she began to move around the room.

"Nope," replied Lily as she bent down to pick up a strewn T-shirt on the floor. "Bob pretty much says that this area is off limits; more because Elle's room is here too." She sniffed the shirt and wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting, Dean."

Dean laughed, "I escaped from prison in that shirt." He grabbed it from her hands and sniffed. "Okay, I guess your right. I'll sort that out later."

"Maybe I'll just burn them and get you new clothes." Lily said as she continued to pick up discarded clothing on the floor. Dean let her do it; he always hated doing laundry. Back in Mexico, he'd spend hours at a Laundromat, completely and utterly bored.

"After tonight, I'll probably need them."

Lily paused and dropped the piles of clothes on the bed. "I'm actually here to take you up to the laboratory. We lost track of Sylar again. We found the male twin's body in a motel room in Virginia. Bob wants to make sure that everything is under control. He wants to make sure that you're up to it."

"You mean ability wise?" Dean asked.

Lily shrugged. "I dunno, I think you're fine with your abilities- the drugs have worn off, right?"

Dean nodded and shrugged. "I think so; I mean I can still fly. But I haven't been able to use the pyrokinesis. It's like it disappeared."

Lily groaned, "What the hell's going on with your ability? It's being such a pain in the ass. It's too bad we don't even have the time to test on you; we're stretched too thin at the moment."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I'll let Bob explain it to you. He and Elle arrived back today." She grinned when she saw Dean's head snap up. "Whoa, down, boy," she laughed. "I don't even know if she's in the lab. But, Bob is and I don't wanna keep him waiting."

Dean sighed and stood up. "Always the loyal soldier, aren't you."

Lily smiled, "I never claimed to be anything more." She ushered Dean out of the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"So, you really won't tell me what's going on?" Dean said as they quickly walked through the blue and white halls towards the elevator.

"Well, considering it's almost midnight now, you definitely won't be getting any sleep later." Lily replied.

Dean laughed and pressed the button to open the elevator doors. "So that's why you were so forceful about keeping me in bed."

Lily grinned and leaped inside the elevator before the doors had fully opened. "Yup," she said, pushing the button for the third floor. "And it was easier then I expected. I was half hoping to use those sleeping pills I found."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," said Dean. He winced slightly as the elevator car jerked upwards. "You probably would have knocked me out for a week, considering I was already drugged on the power suppression pills. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mix meds?"

Lily turned to look at him as the elevator slowed to a halt. "You know, you can be such a smart ass sometimes. You're lucky I like you, or I might have started to make your emotions go south. I can do that now you know, I've been practicing."

The elevator doors opened and they both exited at the same time. Dean glanced down at Lily, the question that he had been wondering about since before he arrived back at Hartsdale was bubbling to the surface. "Did Elle get shot?"

"You'll find out soon, Dean." Lily grinned. "Anyways, I'm heading this way, just keep going up to Bob's office."

Dean watched Lily turn left and walk down the corridor as a thought stuck him. "Hey, this is like the only time you haven't used your ability on me."

Lily shook her head and grinned, "Nope, its called subtleties. Notice you're in a better mood then you were before I came." She turned back around and continued to make her way down the white corridor.

"How do you know it wasn't just because I enjoy your company?" Dean called after her.

"It wasn't because of that." Lily replied rather sadly. Dean managed to catch her last words just before she rounded a corner. "It never is."

Dean raised his eyebrows and continued walking straight. He had never heard Lily sound like that before. She was never sad; it seemed so surreal to hear that emotion in her voice. It was just didn't fit with her personality. Dean shook his head and cast those thoughts aside. Whatever was wrong with her, it was her business, not his.

He waited a moment before continuing forward, glancing around the corridors as he went by. The Hartsdale building consisted of several floors. The lab was on the third and top floor. It was by far the most active place in the entire building, though now it seemed even busier then he had ever seen it before. People were carrying vials, folders, boxes; all manner of files and papers. It looked like they were being moved or hidden, or maybe even heading to the incinerator. There was really only one reason why this would be happening: The Company had been threatened with exposure and was now preparing to become a ghost.

Dean rounded a corner, ignoring the entrance to the lab. Bob's office close, but it wasn't in there. Dean was glad that he didn't have to enter the lab. It was far busier then the maze of corridors which made up Hartsdale's entire building. The building was built with the intention of being a maze. It made it difficult for potential intruders to navigate. It usually took months for someone to memorise the numerous corridors and passages.

Through the rush of busy Company agents and technicians, Dean caught sight of a familiar blonde leaning against a wall outside Bob's office. Dean grinned and straightened his course towards her. His step faltered for a second when he noticed the sling on her arm. Her left hand was covering a white bandage, rubbing it tenderly. "Elle!" he called, dodging past a worker overloaded with boxes.

Elle's head perked up as she heard Dean call her name. He immediately noticed that Elle's eyes were red rimmed, it looked like she had had a rough day. This was not the way Dean wanted to see his friend after four months. He hadn't pictured balloons or a climactic moment where he saved her life or vice-versa. But he at least thought that there'd be happy faces.

"Hey," Dean smiled as he stopped in front of her; he frowned when he noticed the look on her face. "What's wrong?"

Elle smiled weakly, Dean immediately knew it was false. "Nothing," replied Elle. "I'm fine."

"You know I know when you're lying," said Dean. "Come on, what happened."

"I screwed up, alright. I accidentally provoked Claire Bennet into threatening The Company with exposure." Elle's words spilled out of her mouth, it was obvious she had been keeping everything bottled up. "That's why all this is happening." She gestured vaguely towards that rush of Company employee's. "It's all my fault. And now I'm waiting for Daddy to tear into me…"

Dean smiled and put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "It'll be fine. It always is."

Elle shrugged and massaged her bandage again. "Not this time. Dads furious, everyone else is angry at me. I was reckless enough to get shot by grumpy-bum Noah Bennet…" She breathed out and moved her sling slightly. "Bennet said something to me, back in Costa Verde."

"What?"

"He said that my Dad let them test on me. He said that they made me how I am today…I don't know what to think anymore."

Dean hesitated and glanced away briefly. It was only for a second but Elle noticed the look on his face. "Did you know?" She asked.

Her tone stung Dean as if she had just zapped him; it was filled with the beginnings of hurt and betrayal. "I knew a little bit." He replied.

Elle just stared at him, causing his stomach to twist with guilt. The feeling was completely unfamiliar to Dean. He had brutally killed before and hadn't felt the slightest pang of anything. Elle pushed herself off of the wall and began to walk away. Dean grabbed her free hand. "Elle, I'm…"

He cut off and turned his head as he heard Bob call his name. He must have heard their conversation through the door. Dean gasped as he felt his entire arm sting when sparks arced from Elle's hand into his. His fingers numbed, causing Dean to involuntarily release Elle's hand. Dean wiggled his fingers, trying to relieve the numbing sensation in his hand.

Elle continued to walk, not even missing a step as she shocked Dean. He stared after her for a second before turning back and walking into Bob's office. He really didn't understand how Elle was making him feel as guilty as he was now; it was really the zap that she had given him that sent his emotions on a rollercoaster. She had always shocked him playfully, watching as her electricity made his body arch and his breath catch. She had never shocked him like she did just before. He hadn't even done anything wrong…had he? Bob had asked him not to tell Elle anything about the tests. He said it would have been too painful for her to hear. He had followed orders and his best friend had continued with her life, happy in her ignorance. He shouldn't feel guilt about that, should he?

He glanced around Bob's office as he walked. He had been in here quite a few times before. Most of the time in his early teens for childish pranks and games played with Elle. He remembered that all those games ended when he had been packed off to Primatech, Texas for five years. This room still gave him that strange feeling which was like most people felt when they were being sent to the principals office at school – at least he thought that's what it felt like, he didn't remember anything before he was ten and he never went a traditional high school. He was sure that the Haitian had been brought in to erase his memory, he didn't know why and he really didn't care. It was in the past now and whatever was taken from him was gone.

His eyes focused on Bob, sitting stiffly in his chair. His bespectacled eyes were peering at his computer screen. Dean knew what he was looking at, it was what he always looked at so intently: The security camera's around the cells in the basement and Mohinder Suresh's new laboratory. That computer always held a lot of secrets for him. He remembered thinking once that the entire world's secrets were held in that metal box. He remembered that probably the worst trouble he had gotten in was when he managed log in to that computer and download his and Elle's psych files. He had been caught before he managed to get into anything good. But he knew how proud he was of himself when that green 'accepted' popped up on the screen. It was actually rather easy to guess another special's password. They all instinctively put it as something related to their power. Elle's changed frequently, but they all had something to do with electricity. Bob's had taken a while to figure out, but he had eventually guessed right with 'Midas'. His own had remained unchanged since he was fifteen: Copycat. It was simple and fitting.

Bob's gaze moved from the computer screen onto Dean. He twisted the chair around, gesturing for Dean to sit. Dean eyed the chair opposite Bob and sat down after a moment's hesitation. He met Bob's gaze, fully and openly. He wasn't going to let him think that he was intimidated, not by Bob anyway.

"I'm sure you've heard that I intend to send you after Sylar," began Bob, in his calm, slow voice which always served to annoy the monumentally impatient Dean. "But, I have absolutely no intention of doing that. Despite whatever you may think, we still need Sylar alive, we need to find out what makes his ability work. And I know that no matter what orders we give you. If you go after Sylar again, you'll kill him."

Dean leaned forward, words of denial already forming on his lips. He stopped at Bob's raised eyebrow. He knew that he wouldn't follow orders on that particular assignment; he hated Sylar too much. And it was obvious that Bob knew it as much as he did – if not more. "So what was all that preparation for then?" Dean asked. "All those hours spend in bed, with Lily making sure that I stayed in there."

Bob leaned back in his chair, moving into an uncharacteristically relaxed position. But no matter how deceptive his body language may be; Dean could see the true calculating expressions in Bob's eyes. The entire world was just a giant chessboard to him; and its people were the pieces. Dean wondered if Bob was looking at him like that now; that he was just some chess piece ready to be moved into position. Dean smiled, if he was going to be a chess piece; he wanted to be a Knight – not a Pawn.

"There are events going on in this world that are a lot more important then Sylar's capture. With the discovery of the virus and cure-all blood; people like Adam Monroe and Claire Bennet; even Peter Petrelli will be more important then anything, more then my life, more then your life, even more then Elle's."

Dean frowned and leaned back in his chair, perfectly mimicking Bob's posture. "What do you want me to do?"

"I'll get to that in a minute," Bob said, his eyes flickering towards the computer screen and then back to Dean. "Firstly, I need to tell you something, you need to know this before you can start anything."

"Know what?" Dean asked, idly scratching his chin. He put on an uninterested air, but it was obvious that Bob knew it was far from what Dean was truly feeling. Then he said one word that complete shattered Dean's uninterested air and made the younger man lean forward. He knew the answers of the world could be found here, in this office, he just didn't know that they wouldn't be found on the computer.

"Everything."

* * *

Elle sat against the concrete wall of one side of the roof's door way. Her head was resting against the rough surface, making her hair stick to the rough cracks and crevices of the imperfect concrete. Her eyes were staring up at the night sky; dark clouds filled the air, occasionally allowing the smallest twinkling of a star to crack through. She always used to think that her ability made her a twinkling little star, but that little fantasy disappeared when she found out that stars were really burning balls of gas. She never really came up with anything else that she could identify herself with. That was how she spent the first ten years of her life. She had a few scattered memories of that period of her life, but she always knew that she was different – special, like her Dad always said she was. 

Right now, she didn't care that when she stood up, her hair would hurt as it was pulled from the concrete, she didn't care that it might start to rain and get her wet. She didn't care that the annoying little security camera was trained on her, watching her every blink, every single little movement she made. She just didn't care. Her mind was focused on the past. Dean had often told her that what's done is done and that what happened couldn't be avoided in any way. She thought that the plot to blow up New York completely contradicted his words. Even so, her mind kept drifting back to Bennet's words, even more now that she had heard of Dean's betrayal.

She shook her head, wincing slightly as strands of hair separated from the concrete like elastic. It wasn't really his fault; he would have thought it was best for her. He had always put her first. And now she thought that he was the only one who ever did it. But no matter what; Dean was a Company dog, through and through. If he was told to keep the testing a secret from her, he would have done it.

She turned her head slightly as she heard the door to the stairwell open, she didn't bother turning her head the full way so she could actually she the person. She could recognise his distinctive electrical scent. It was delicious to her; she had always thought so--though she had never told him. He was one of the two people who made her feel like she wasn't alone. She could feel the electrons buzzing around his body. She found herself wondering if they had tested that particular aspect about her ability: Its range, its intensity. "How'd you know I was here?" She asked.

"I didn't," replied Dean truthfully, sitting beside her against the concrete wall. "I've been looking all over the place, your room, my room, the cells, the lab, the training area. And then I decided to look up here and now here I am."

"Why'd you think I'd be in your room?" Elle asked curiously.

Dean shrugged, "I dunno, I thought you might be burning stuff or trashing it." His comment caused Elle to laugh. The truth was, she had actually considered doing it too.

They sat in silence for a moment, the companionable silence which came from years of friendship. Elle didn't know if Dean could smell her own overactive electricity, or her own electrical scent. She was even more aware of his now. She could smell it in everyone if she tried hard enough, but Dean's had always stood out to her, from the moment she had first seen him sleeping on his bed nearly fourteen years ago.

It was Dean who broke the silence, speaking words Elle never expected to hear from him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was told not to; I thought it was for the best too." He said the last part rather defensively. It made Elle smile, she didn't think that she had heard him apologise to anyone before. Well, there was the occasional 'I'm sorry' when he didn't hear a person properly. But she had never heard him apologise sincerely.

"It's fine," she replied. "I think I over-reacted a little anyway. I just don't know what to think anymore. Dads done things that I didn't even think somebody could do."

"Yeah, I'll say." Dean said. Elle turned her head to look at him properly now, his face was troubled; it was obvious he was thinking. Elle could feel the electrical signals in his brain racing madly. "He can have surprising things to say too."

"Do you…do you think that the testing did something to me?" Elle asked, her voice shaking slightly. She hated how it made her feeling; she hated how she must sound to Dean. "Bennet said I was all unicorns and rainbows before the testing. Do you think I'm the way I am now because of what my Dad did?"

Dean looked at her and replied bluntly. "Look, you are the way you are. It doesn't matter anymore anyway. I personally wouldn't have it any other way. You just wouldn't be Elle if you were all unicorns or rainbows."

"You mean if I was normal?"

"Who wants normal? What's wrong with being different, being special?"

Elle choked, Dean's words were really hitting home for her. He liked her for who she was. She never used to think like this. It was Bennet's fault. She thought vehemently. She felt Dean pick himself off the ground and walk towards the edge of the building. She instantly knew that Dean had misread her choke as a scoff or a mocking snort. She really didn't see how he could have though. It was pretty straightforward; maybe he really was as bad at reading woman as Lily said he was.

"You know your Dad loves you, right. I know he's guilty about what happened. He just wants to protect you. I know he's a little pissed at the moment, but that'll change."

Elle said nothing; she just stared at Dean as he stepped up onto the edge of the building. She knew he was bluffing. She had seen stuff like this in moves. The guy would do something unbelievably reckless and suicidal to gain the girl's attention. Whether it was to make them go on a date or make them listen. The girl always said yes and the guy never died.

She watched in amusement as Dean turned to face her and spread his arms wide. "Come on. Shock me, zap me; burn me to a crisp if it'll make you feel better."

Elle smiled and said, "Come back down, I don't want you splattered on the ground below." She was smiling at Dean's attempt at making her laugh. He had seen some of the movies with her too. He knew that the reckless action put a smile on the girl's faces too.

He grinned and lifted a foot in preparation to step off the building. But that was before a gust of wind swept by and knocked him off balance. Elle had chosen that side of the wall for a reason. It offered protection from the wind. She watched as if the entire event was a movie. It certainly seemed like it, she thought that stuff like this only happened in movies; horrible clichés but still gripping. She watched as Dean's balance completely left him. Dean, the man who she had seen walk halfway across a tightrope before he fell.

She scrambled up when she saw him fall backwards, disappearing over the edge. She barely made it a step when his head poked back up, his body following it in his flight. Elle instantly felt relief smother her fear. But that combination quickly turned into anger when she heard Dean's laugh.

"Lost my balance there, I'm so glad that I can fly too," he said as his feet lightly touched the ground.

Elle stared at him for a moment before launching herself at him. She sent light electrical arcs streaming out of her free hand, she didn't want to kill him, just cause him enough pain that he wouldn't do something that stupid again. He grunted as the electricity struck his body, making his breath catch and body arch slightly. Elle loved the way different people experienced electric shocks. They may all look the same when electricity surges through their bodies. But there are always subtle differences in the way the body spasms, shuts down. She loved the scent of her electricity pouring through a person. But right now she was too angry to notice the way Dean's body handled her electrical charges, that lustful scent as her electricity met his. She beat her free hand on his chest; feeling him wince as each strike brought further electrical charges into his body.

Elle could hear him laugh through his onslaught. Why was he laughing? Elle thought to herself, he was meant to be groaning in pain, wincing as his each electrical punch made his heart beat erratically. She stared up at him as he bent his head forward. Her electricity instantly cut off as Elle felt his lips meet hers. Elle froze in surprise before she returned his kiss, curling her tounge with his. She found it hard to believe that the last time they had kissed like this was when they were sixteen.

She felt his hand softly brush her waist. She curled her arm around the back of his neck. He had certainly gotten better at this. She remembered back then it had really just been inexperience and eagerness. It had been her first kiss eight years ago with Dean. And she knew that it had been his first too. It had happened back on their training assignment in Miami. That first kiss had brought on weeks of akwardness between them; they had eventually gotten past that akwardness. But after they had, Dean was sent to Primatech, Texas. She thought her father had somehow found out about that night in Dean's room, but he had never said anything or showed any indication that he knew about it--aside from Dean's immediate transfer, but that was no reason to believe he knew. People got transferred all the time in The Company.

They broke off as a loud, persistent beeping came from Dean's waist. She looked down and saw a red light flash from a pager attached to his belt. "I can zap that for you," murmured Elle.

"Knight," Dean said just as quietly. "No, no. I have to go. I just wanted to…say goodbye before I left. There's something I need to do and I dunno when I'll get back."

Elle looked down again; she wished whole-heartedly that she could zap that beeper into nothingness. It had spoiled her moment. She frowned as she noticed a small metallic glint poking out from the hem of Dean's jacket. "What's that?" She asked as she pushed the jacked aside. The metal glint turned into a small protective case. The kind people used to transport vials or syringes, or both.

Dean looked down and pulled the hem back into place, covering the metal box. "It's part of what I need to do. I hope it won't take long to do, but… it's necessary." He smiled and stepped back. "Listen, if you really wanna find out about the tests, go look through your Dad's office later."

Elle looked up at him and returned his smile with a flirtatious one of her own. "What if nothing's there?"

He shrugged, "You'll never now unless you try. Its cliché, but it's true. Anyway, your Dad's office holds the answers to the world. If you don't find something there, well, you don't know what you're looking for." He raised his hand and held it invitingly in front of Elle.

She smiled and zapped it, watching the electricity pour through his fingers and hand, smelling that same addictive smell that came from zapping him; that electrical scent. Dean's face contorted slightly as he shook off the numbing feeling. He smiled at her and closed his eyes. She started forward as Dean's entire body seemed to spasm in pain. He held up a hand waving her back. The spasm was over as soon as it began. Dean straightened breathing heavily. "It happens when I change abilities. It just builds up…I guess." He shook his head, clearing his head of the last remnants of pain.

Elle grinned, "See you soon."

Dean smiled back and took of in flight, disappearing into the night sky. Elle's eyes followed his flight. The entire night seemed brighter somehow; the clouds had parted, allowing the stars to be visible from the rooftop. Her smile widened when she remembered what he had said: Knight. It was a code or something in whatever he was doing. In her mind she pictured a chessboard, with a Knight standing proudly in its opening square and a Bishop standing confidently next to it.


	15. Chapter 15

Mohinder Suresh entered his apartment building complex at a half jog. He ignored the questioning looks directed at him by the building's super and other people loitering in the foyer. He didn't care what they thought was happening, because he knew that they truly had no idea. If he was to tell them that a super-powered serial killer was upstairs in his apartment, holding Molly hostage. They would give him a look of disbelief and think that he was insane—or joking. Most people would even voice their opinions aloud. If they did, however, try to ask questions, he would steadily ignore them and continue running up to his apartment.

The dawn sun was pouring through the closed and slightly grimy windows. Even though he had turned around as soon he found out that Sylar had Molly and was waiting at his apartment; it had still taken a few hours for him to arrive back here. He hoped that Sylar hadn't done anything to Molly. He had even said a small prayer to the God he didn't think existed.

He ran up the flight of stairs, taking to steps at a time. He was aware of the metal container bouncing around in his bag. He unconsciously slowed his pace, his paranoid fear that one of the vials of cure-all blood would shatter inside the case suddenly returning. It was unrealistic to think that one of the precious vials would break. Bob had demonstrated how hardy those protective cases were; they could hold anything safely inside, no matter what trauma the case was subjected to.

Mohinder reached the top of the stair and started to walk through the dirty hallways towards his apartment. He froze as a voice called his name from back at the stairs. Mohinder spun around, fully expecting Sylar to be there waiting for him. When his eyes fell on the man, Mohinder was filled with the strange feeling that he had seen him before. He looked casual and completely dangerous at the same time. It was a difficult combination to pull off, but this man was succeeding.

"Dr. Suresh," the man repeated, pushing himself off the wall and closing the distance between them. "Remember me?"

Mohinder thought for a moment; the name was on the tip of his tongue. He didn't think that it had even been so long ago when he had seen him. So many things had happened in so little time. It was when the man smiled that Mohinder finally came up with a name for the face. "Dean Matthews." Mohinder said, nodding his head slightly in greeting. "I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry. I don't have time to talk." He turned and began to walk away. He could see the corridor leading towards his apartment nearly a metre away from him. He didn't want to waste anymore time then he already had.

"That's good, Dr." Dean replied, grabbing Mohinder's arm to stop him. "I don't have long either. I'm just here to warn you."

"I know," Mohinder said, the beginnings of frustration beginning to form in his voice. He jerked his arm out of Dean's grasp and folded his arms. "Sylar is in my apartment and holding Molly hostage. I don't have time for talk. Molly is in danger."

Dean shook his head, "Not at the moment. I really don't have the time to explain it to you. I'm only here to say that you can't—under any circumstances—give Sylar the cure-all blood."

"I have no intention of doing so." Mohinder retorted. "And I don't see any reason why I'd have to. I'm guessing that The Company sent you to help me in this situation, but we don't have any time to talk or make a clever little plan."

"Wrong." Dean said, walking forward to poke his head around the corner like a child who was spying on his parents. "You're gonna have to handle this on your own. I've got other stuff I've gotta take care of."

Mohinder walked up to him and faced the corridor, his eyes following Dean's gaze. "My apartments the one on the other side," he said, pointing Dean in the right direction. "Number 613"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I know. It's just, that was Eden's old apartment, the one across the hall from yours."

"You knew Eden McCain?" Mohinder asked, his surprise casting Sylar out of his mind for a moment.

Dean nodded again, "Yup, we were friends before she died; even though it was only for a couple of months. When I found out what had happened to her; I was furious. It's actually what made me hate Sylar so much." Dean turned to look at Mohinder and grinned. "She liked you, you know. She cared about you a lot."

Mohinder's mouth opened slightly. The last thing he expected was Eden's name to pop up; especially from Dean. When they had first met, he struck Mohinder as being anti-social and alone. Now he found at that he had been friends with Eden. And from the rumours and talk around the Company laboratory; quite personal and close with Elle.

Dean straightened at looked at Mohinder. "Let me see the vials," he demanded, his tone immediately switching from vague remembrance to business-like with apparently no trigger. "Let me see them and I'll let you go to meet Sylar."

Mohinder hesitated; he could already be in the apartment if Dean wasn't holding him back. All of his instincts told him to push past him and charge through his apartment's front door. His mind immediately crushed those thoughts. Dean would not let him go until he got what he wanted. Mohinder could hear Dean's foot tapping impatiently against the floor. He sighed and opened up his bag, feeling through its contents for the metal strongbox. His hand gripped the protective case's handle and pulled it out from the bag.

Dean grabbed the case from his hands and quickly opened it up. Mohinder opened his mouth to protest, but stopped as Dean examined one of the vials. "Is there anything different about this blood compared to other blood—aside from the regenerative properties?"

Mohinder shook his head, "No, it looks exactly the same; there aren't any distinctive ways you can identify it; its just normal blood but with regenerative properties." Mohinder paused when he noticed Dean's frown. "Why, is there something you need the blood for?"

"Nope, not yet anyway," replied Dean as he replaced the vial and closed up the protective case. "I was just checking that you had both vials…" He sighed and handed the case back to Mohinder.

Mohinder checked the latches of the protective case before replacing it back in his bag. He looked up again at Dean who was removing something from around his neck.

"Here," said Dean, holding his silver helix necklace towards Mohinder. "When you next see Elle; can you give this to her? I want her to have it if the worst comes."

Mohinder reached out his hand and curiously took the necklace from Dean's hand. He instantly recognised the symbol, it was on his father's book and he had seen it numerous times around The Company. "Of course," Mohinder said, "I'll make sure she gets it. Though, may I ask why you're asking me to do it, couldn't you just give it to her yourself?"

Dean grinned, "I was planning on giving it to her when I found her on the roof a few hours after midnight; but some stuff happened and I completely forgot about it. I won't be able to see her for a while, so now I'm asking you to give it to her."

Mohinder carefully placed the necklace inside his bag, making sure that it was safe and secure inside. He had picked up on Dean's tone. It could have been Dean's very last wish. He got the feeling that something dangerous was about to happen and that there was small chance of Dean surviving it.

"Listen, Mohinder." Dean said in a hushed tone. "If you get the chance to take out Sylar, do it. And do not give him the blood. Nothing else matters. If he gets that blood, things will go from bad to worse. If things do happen to go south, try and get him to go to your lab. Bob installed security cameras in those round white things on the walls. Someone should see and be around to help." Dean grinned and patted Mohinder's shoulder. "Good luck, Dr. Suresh."

Mohinder watched as Dean turned walked towards the stairwell, disappearing around the corner as he climbed down the stairs. Mohinder hesitated only a moment before he walked in the opposite direction of Dean. He turned the corner and strode quickly towards his apartment. He quickly looked into his back and pulled out the metal strongbox. He didn't need Dean's warning about not letting Sylar have the cure-all blood. He also didn't need his advice about taking out Sylar whenever the opportunity arrived. Mohinder got the feeling that the only reason Dean had come here was to give him the necklace to pass onto Elle.

He replaced the strongbox back inside his bag and twisted his door handle. He pushed the door open and barged inside. His eyes moved quickly about the room, looking for any sign of the serial killer.

"Welcome home, Dr. Suresh." Sylar said as he spun around in his chair to face Mohinder. "What happened to your nose?"

* * *

"Hiro?!" Adam said disbelievingly as he walked forward to look at the unconscious Hiro Nakamura. 

"He froze time," replied Peter as he glanced between Adam and Hiro, "said he knew you."

"We were friends once, a very long time ago." Adam said as he took another step forward. Peter was slightly surprised to see the look on Adam's face. It was obvious something had happened between the two. Maybe Hiro was telling the truth about Adam.

"He tried to kill you," Peter said, voicing his thoughts aloud. "He said I shouldn't trust you."

"And what did you think about that?" Adam replied, still looking down at Hiro's body.

Peter stared at the back of Adam's head. "Let's go destroy that virus." He said as he turned around and began to walk off. He could hear Adam saying something to the unconscious Hiro.

"I believe this is mine, Carp."

Peter turned his head as Adam quickly caught up to him. He was surprised to see that Adam was holding Hiro's sword confidently in his hands. "Why'd you take that?"

Adam looked down at the sword. "To stop him from stabbing one of us when we're not looking; Hiro can often be of surprises, even when you know they're coming."

Peter nodded and looked towards their destination. Adam had told him that one of the elevators in the warehouse was the quickest way to the underground vault. Peter watched as Adam pushed several buttons on the elevator keypad quickly.

Adam frowned as a red light danced across the keypad. "I suppose that would have been too easy." He shrugged. "Why don't you give it a go?"

Peter nodded and placed a finger in the centre of the keypad and thought about the electrically charged blonde woman who delighted in causing pain; but could be just as sweet and childlike at the same time. Electricity danced across his fingertip, moving into the keypad with delighted destruction. The red light flashed erratically as the electricity shorted out the keypad.

Adam grinned as the elevator doors slowly slid open. "Good job, Peter."

Peter only nodded as he followed Adam inside the elevator. He watched as Adam pushed the button for the basement level. "The elevators only go down to the first basement level." Adam explained. "We have to go the long way to reach the third floor down."

"Okay," Peter said as the elevator shuddered to a halt. "Let's just hope that we can get there unnoticed."

The elevator doors opened slowly; revealing a troop of company security guards behind the doors. "Freeze!" One of the guards yelled.

Peter glanced at Adam before thrusting out with his hand, sending several of the guards flying back with the strength of his telekinetic. Adam rushed forward, moving between the remaining guards with the grace of a one-time samurai. Wherever his sword flashed; bodies fell.

After barely a minute of fighting, only Adam and Peter remained in the hallway. Red lights flashed and the sound of alarms boomed loudly. Adam wiped his blood-streaked sword on the uniform of one of the security guards. "Come on," he said easily. "We don't have much time now."

Peter nodded and followed Adam deeper into Primatech's underground.

* * *

Dean sped through the sky, a great stream of white air marking his flight. He didn't usually break the sound barrier, but time was against him. This was a lot more important then his flight across the Atlantic or his escape from Ireland. The last time he had gone this fast, he was eighteen and he challenged his flight's original benefactor to a race. He had been beaten and sick for a few days. His body wasn't used to the speed he was travelling. He hoped that his body would be fine after this. But this time he didn't have the luxury of slowing his movement. 

A few minutes ago, he had flown past another man who could fly. He had been carrying another man piggy-back style. Dean had been able to recognise both of them on the brief glance he had seen. It was Nathan Petrelli and Matt Parkman. It had taken Dean a few minutes to control the sudden fit of laughing. He had almost knocked the two out of the air. It was obvious then that they were heading towards the same destination: Primatech, Texas.

Dean narrowed his body and pushed himself for greater speed. He always loved to find his limits and constantly challenge at them. It was the curiosity that came with living with special abilities. He had often been told to hold back and take it easy. He had always tried to impress and amaze others with what he could do. He remembered that one time The Company had tested to see how much wattage he could produce when he had Elle's ability absorbed. It hurt like hell, but it was worth it; he had overloaded the electricity absorption devices and had blacked out most of Hartsdale. It was the last time they tested his strength with Elle's ability.

He could see the yellow exterior of Primatech Paper from his position in the sky. He immediately slowed and began to descend, wincing slightly as his stomach lurched uncomfortably. He turned his head as he dropped, he could see the two men far behind him, looking like pinpricks in the distance. It would take a few minutes until they arrived here. But Dean was confident that he would be gone before then.

His feet hit the ground hard, making him stagger as his body tried to adjust to being back on the ground. He felt for the metal case hanging at his waist; breathing a sigh of relief as he felt the cool metal. He had checked it regularly on his flight; paranoid feelings were common among people who were carrying something important.

"Time to get to work," Dean said to himself as he walked towards the warehouse. He knew who he was looking for and he knew where he was. Bob had made sure to tell Dean where he was going to show up. It had taken a little while to rack him down; but they had finally found him.

He entered the warehouse, his eyes searching around the isles of boxes for his target. None of the workers around the warehouse noticed his entrance; people walking through the warehouse were a common occurrence for them. They ignored whatever they saw and carried on with their work.

It took Dean a few minutes of walking before he finally found his target. Someone had pushed the unconscious Hiro Nakamura against a crate of paper so he wasn't in the way of the workers. Dean swore and jogged towards him.

Dean dropped to his knees and pulled Hiro's body closer to him. He pressed his ear to Hiro's chest, breathing a sigh of relief as the slow, rhythmic thump of Hiro's heart sounded through his chest.

He leaned back and examined Hiro's body. It appeared as if he was sleeping, but Dean had seen people like this before. Normally it was after Elle had shocked them into a coma. It usually took days from them to regain consciousness—if they regained it at all.

"Hang in there, Hiro." Dean said, as he rolled up Hiro's sleeve. "You're gonna be fine."

He unclipped the metal case from his belt and placed it on the concrete floor. He quickly undid the fastening and opened the case. A small vial of blood along with a syringe was held snugly inside, protected by the layers of soft foam and the hard steel shell of the strongbox.

Dean quickly removed both items and held them in his hands. He wished that he didn't have to do this; it was like he was giving away his only safeguard. But he wouldn't be able to do what he needed to without Hiro Nakamura; he was a fast flyer, but not as fast as he needed to be.

He quickly and expertly drew the blood from the vial into the syringe and jabbed the needle into Hiro's vein. Dean watched as the blood emptied itself into Hiro's body. When the syringe was empty, Dean removed it from Hiro's arm and placed it carefully to the side. He wasn't convinced that this blood would work. He'd seen a lot of strange and fanciful things in his life; but death had always been certain. Once you were dead, there was no coming back. He wanted to believe that this blood could bring someone back from a coma, or heal someone from death. But it just seemed so surreal to him, even in his unreal world.

"Come on, wake up." Dean urged. He could hear Hiro's breathing quicken as the cure-all blood began to heal Hiro's comatose body. Dean grinned and let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. He stood as Hiro's eyes flickered open.

"Welcome back," grinned Dean as he held out a hand for Hiro to grab.

Hiro accepted the hand and stood up on shaky legs. "What happened?"

"No idea," shrugged Dean. "You were lying on the ground when I got here."

He watched as Hiro looked around his feet and the surrounding area. He didn't appear to notice the metal strongbox or the syringe discarded on the floor near him. "My sword," he said. "He must have taken it."

The corners of Dean's mouth rose slightly as he realised who Hiro was talking about. Bob had told him about the virus and Adam Monroe's desire to release it. It was an important matter to The Company, but right now it wasn't Dean's problem.

"You have power." Hiro said suddenly, dragging Dean away from his thoughts. His face looked like someone who was meeting a character from a favourite comic book; full of happiness and wonder. "You must help me. There's a bad man downstairs who killed my father. I must find him."

Dean shook his head, "I can't help you. I'm not a hero, Mr. Nakamura. I never will be." He watched as Hiro's face fell, it made Dean feel obligated to help him. "There are people arriving in the car park who are here to stop Adam Monroe. If you wanna ask them for help, go ahead."

Hiro nodded and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You say you're not a hero; but what makes you a hero is your actions, not your words." Hiro bowed and turned around, leaving Dean slightly surprised at Hiro's final statement. He had never met someone like Hiro Nakamura before. He knew that what Hiro said didn't apply to him. And if it did, it wouldn't after he did what he had been sent to do. Dean was convinced now, when Bob had told him; he'd been sceptical. But Hiro's recovery was proof.

He watched as Hiro walked out of the warehouse; only bending to pick up the empty syringe and the protective case when he was sure that Hiro was gone. He could feel his newly absorbed ability stirring inside him. It took all his control to keep it suppressed. He needed to be completely focused when he did use Hiro's ability. He could end up anywhere if he didn't try and force the ability to do what he wanted.

Dean was confident he could switch between his remembered abilities and his newly absorbed one now. He assumed that he picked up flight somewhere in Ireland; it seemed the only explanation for his sudden ability to fly and his pyrokinesis flushing itself down the toilet. He had tested himself back at Hartsdale after the drugs had worn off. He had switched between his electricity manipulation and flight several times before his body had started to strain. He was also confident that if he switched again, he wouldn't lose Hiro's ability.

Dean quickly walked deeper into the warehouse, taking refuge behind a particularly large crate of paper. He dumped the protective case and syringe in one of the numerous garbage cans at the back to the wall. He needed to be a ghost now. It was all up to him.

He turned his head, his heart leaping to his throat as he heard Hiro shout outside: "Flying man!" He peered around the edge of the crate, almost expecting to see Hiro enthusiastically running towards him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the warehouse was only full of workers. He really didn't want any more interruptions. The memory of kissing Elle was distracting enough.

He pulled his cell-phone out of his pocket and dialled a number he though he had used far too much lately. He waited for the ringing on the other end of the phone to stop and bring Bob's frustratingly calm voice into the connection.

"How'd things go?" Bob asked through the shaky connection. Dean considered choosing a less enclosed space to continue the conversation but immediately decided against it. As long as they could hear each other, things would be fine.

"Good," replied Dean. "I found Hiro Nakamura and absorbed his power. I had to use the vial of blood though— don't worry, I got rid of the syringe and the strong box after I finished."

Bob was silent for a moment; Dean could hear the oncoming question before it even left Bob's mouth. "Do you believe me now?"

"Yeah," Dean sighed, "That blood truly is a find."

"And you know the danger if someone else managed to get their hands on it?"

"Yeah, Dean said again. As soon as he saw Hiro recover, he knew that people would do a lot worse then kill to get their hands on that blood. Bob had asked him to do something that seemed unnecessarily cruel, even in Dean's twisted perception. But now that he had seen what the blood could do, he had immediately made his decision about it. "I'll do it, Bob. I'll kill Claire Bennet. But you have to track down Adam Monroe when I get back. I'm not heading downstairs into a war zone."

"Of course," Bob answered. "As long as you know what you need to do."

"I know." Dean removed the phone from his ear and flipped it shut. He dropped the phone on the concrete floor and raised his booted foot. He stomped down, shattering the cell phone into little pieces.

After a few more well-placed stomps, Dean bent down and collected all the shattered pieces. He dumped them into the trashcan next to the syringe and the strong box. After a moment of hesitation, his wallet followed the shattered cell phone into the trash.

Dean stepped back, closing his eyes as he tried to force Hiro's ability into doing what he wanted. It was a struggle inside his mind; he had never felt such an unstable power before. Not even Elle's gave him this much trouble. Dean squeezed his eyes tighter, his face screwing up in concentration.

He gasped as he felt like his body was being pulled away from reality. His head hurt and his entire body tingled as the vortex of the Time/Space Continuum sucked him in. The pulling grew in intensity as Dean disappeared.

* * *

A/N: One more chapter to go! Big thanks to all my reviewers :) 


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Major spoilers for Powerless.

* * *

Elle ran up the flights of stairs leading up to Mohinder's lab. She winced as her heels clicked loudly against the concrete steps. She was regretting wearing high heels on her self-assigned mission. The extra few inches they added to her height was not worth this. 

She almost smiled as she began to climb the last flight of stairs; she would have if she didn't know who was waiting up there. She didn't know much about Sylar; but what she did know was more than enough to make her weary. She had read bits and pieces of his file on her dad's computer. She had seen his list of victims and the tentative list of his acquired powers. She had seen the reports on his surgeries and his injection with the so-called safe strain of the virus. But even though Sylar was powerless, only a fool would underestimate him.

Elle climbed up the last step, slowing to a walk. She stepped lightly, making sure that her heels didn't attract the attention of the people inside. She reached for the lab's door handle, brushing a cockroach off the smooth metal.

He peered through the blinds before she opened the door. She immediately spotted both Mohinder and Sylar. They were leaning over a woman lying sprawled on the ground. Elle could see the woman's glistening blood on what little she could see of her body.

She pushed down on the door handle and walked quietly inside. Mohinder was lifting something from the woman's body. Elle didn't see what it was; her eyes were totally focused on the back of Sylar's head.

"I'm sure Maya will understand if I'm not here when she wakes up." Sylar said as he reached forward and grabbed a protective case from on top of a bag.

Elle stepped forward, holding her dazzling blue electricity in her unrestrained hand, "Sylar!"

Sylar spun around, raising the Company issue gun clutched tightly in his grasp. Elle thrust out with her hand, her electricity surging in her palm. She stumbled back as Sylar fired the gun, the bullet shattering the glass panel between them. Elle gasped in pain as her fall jarred her still aching gunshot wound.

Over the crash of glass and gunshots, Elle could hear a childish scream and Mohinder crying out someone's name. She ducked her head as two more gunshots echoed through the laboratory, shattering another pane of glass.

Elle staggered to her feet, holding onto the side of a cabinet to pull herself up. She glanced quickly around the lab. Sylar was scrambling away, heading towards the lab's back entrance. Elle raised her hand, sending a bolt of blue lightning in Sylar's direction. The bolt hit one of the labs computers, immediately shattering the screen and shorting out the computer's power.

Elle bit her lip in frustration and sent another bolt of lightning streaking towards Sylar. The bolt impacted against Sylar's back, making Sylar's body arch and spasm. Sylar staggered forward, falling through the glass panel on the back door.

Elle clutched her old gunshot and ran around the broken panels of glass. She climbed down a set of stairs and began to cross the lab, glancing at Mohinder and a girl she recognised as Molly Walker as she ran by.

She stepped through the broken doorway, looking for Sylar's fleeing form. The corridors were a grimy mess of abandoned building materials and smashed glass. Wet bloodstains were streaked along the right wall, marking Sylar's desperate attempt to escape. She saw the serial killer stagger around another corner, heading towards the building's fire escape.

Elle tore after him in her awkward high-heeled run. Her body was racing with adrenaline, fuelling her electrical charges. She could feel the lightning building up inside her body, waiting to be released. _You're not getting away_, she thought vehemently. _Not again!_

She rounded the blood-smeared corner, turning into a nearly identical passage, complete with abandoned building materials and Sylar's smeared bloodstains on the walls. She immediately caught sight of the injured Sylar by one of the corridor's small, square windows. Blue lightning burst from her palm, crossing the distance from her to Sylar in an instant.

_Gotcha,_ Elle thought proudly. _Nowhere left to run!_

The bolt struck Sylar square in his back. Elle could hear his cry of pain as his body began to spasm under the strength of her electricity. Elle frowned in confusion as the now familiar sound of breaking glass reached her ears over the roar of her electricity.

She clenched her fist, cutting off her bolt of lightning. She stared down the corridor, looking for any sign of the serial killer.

"Oh, no," she said in a panicked voice, "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Elle ran forward, this time not caring that her heels made her toes ache painfully; she didn't even give her footwear a thought. Sylar was gone, only leaving a shattered window and pieces of broken glass behind.

Elle poked her head through the broken window, looking down into the alleyway below. It was completely deserted; she couldn't see Sylar or anyone else in the dirty alley.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to control the rush of panic and frustration threatening to consume her. "No!" she said aloud, her emotions present in every word. "He can't be gone! Oh, God, I'm so dead." This had been her chance to make her father proud and she had blown it.

She withdrew her head from the broken window and began to walk back towards the lab. She didn't know what went wrong. She knew that her dad wouldn't accept anymore excuses. The thought filled her with dread. It didn't matter what she said; it would always be her own fault.

She could almost imagine the lecture—well, more of a severe reprimand—that her father would give her. It would be a lot worse than the last lecture he gave her; he had said that she couldn't go on field assignments anymore. She had ignored him and gone after Sylar and had let the serial killer get away. The thought of meeting her father and explaining to him how she screwed up was enough to make her stomach twinge with anxiety. It would be better to just run away and never see her father again.

Elle rounded the last corner and emerged back into the lab. The woman who had been lying on the ground was now sitting up and speaking to Mohinder and Molly. They all turned to look at Elle as she trod her way back in.

"Sylar's gone!" she announced to the group, slamming her palm into the wood panel of the now glassless door. "My dad's gonna kill me!"

She hated how panicked she sounded. She clutched her itching gunshot and tried to steady her heavy breathing. She hated this feeling; she felt useless, like she couldn't do anything right. _Maybe daddy was right about everything._ She thought unhappily.

"I doubt that very much," Mohinder said, his words driving through Elle's shell of panic and despair. "If you hadn't arrived, Sylar would have slaughtered us all. We owe you our lives."

"Really?" Elle asked, looking up at Mohinder hopefully.

Mohinder smiled and nodded his head.

"Cool." Elle smiled. Maybe things wouldn't turn out so bad after all. Maybe her dad wouldn't be angry at her for failing to catch Sylar.

Maybe she could be a hero.

Maybe she already was.

* * *

"It's done." Noah stated in a shaky voice. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to compose himself before continuing. "You'll leave my family alone now?" 

Bob nodded and started to walk back to the Company car waiting by the Bennet's household's driveway. "Yes, as long as Claire has stopped her plan to expose The Company; no harm will come to her or your family."

Noah stared at the back of Bob's head as he followed the man back to the car. He didn't realise how hard it was to say goodbye to the people he loved; it felt like he had just ripped his heart from his chest.

"However, there may be a small problem." Bob continued as he closed the distance to the car.

"What small problem?" Bennet asked angrily as he pushed his hand against the car door. "You promised that my family would be kept safe; that was the deal!"

"I'm well aware of that, Noah." Bob answered. "That's why I'm doing everything I can to rectify the problem before it becomes a major issue."

"What happened?" Noah hissed.

"Before we made our arrangement, I ordered an agent to make sure that Claire didn't expose The Company—"

"You sent an agent after my little girl?!" Noah shouted; grabbing Bob's shirt collar and forcing him back against the car.

"Calm down, Noah!" Bob said. "I'm trying to find the man so I can call him off. The agent was ordered to go dark and he hasn't checked in since he last called at Primatech."

Noah released Bob and stepped back, realising the seriousness of the situation. There was no way for Bob to contact the agent; the agent had to contact him. Going dark was one of the most basic security measures employed at The Company. "Then we're staying until your agent gets here. I'm not leaving until I'm sure she's safe."

Bob pushed himself off the side of the car and straightened his now rumpled suit collar. "I can promise you that Claire won't come under assault from our agent. I ordered him to check in when he arrived in Costa Verde. He'll be ordered to leave Claire alone, as I promised."

"Who'd you send?" Noah asked.

"Dean." Bob answered. "I'm sure you remember him."

Noah nodded and wiped a hand across his chin. He knew Dean from the five years he had spent at Primatech. Bob had said it was so Dean could get some training and experience with bagging and tagging assignments and information on the various abilities he might come into contact with. But word spread quickly around The Company. It wasn't long after when Noah had found out about Dean's short-lived relationship with Elle. Bob had done the easiest thing to separate the two of them.

Noah hadn't actually been surprised to hear that Dean and Elle had started sleeping together. He had been on the training assignment on Miami with them and had seen their relaxed friendship suddenly twist into strong sexual attraction. He didn't know what the trigger had been, but he and Claude had found it incredibly amusing to see how awkward it had turned between them in the middle of the trip.

"Yeah, I remember him." Noah replied, still visibly angry over Bob's actions. "Though, I am surprised that Dean agreed to kill Claire. He treated her like a little sister whenever he saw her at Primatech."

"Back when you were still a loyal employee." Bob said.

"Back when I was a still a loyal employee." Noah nodded. Back then, he was less anxious about keeping Claire away from The Company. He still avoided it whenever he could, but on the occasional times when it couldn't be helped, he mainly let Claire stay with Dean when he didn't want her to see something. Dean never seemed to mind it; he would just play card games with her. Noah was sure that Dean had taught her how to play poker as well as she could; Claire always seemed to win whenever she played; Noah also certain that Dean had taught her how to cheat at it too. Though if Noah had known then what he did now, Claire would never had been allowed anywhere near Primatech.

"There was another reason I sent Dean after Claire." Bob said as he opened the car door. "The issue of her blood—"

"It's always easier to kill then to protect," finished Noah as he climbed into the driver's seat. "I know. I followed the rule myself."

Bob nodded and watched as Noah stared the car and began to drive away from the Bennet household. "Something must have gone wrong," he stated, causing Noah to look at him curiously. "Dean should have been here hours ago. He called from Primatech before we even arrived in Costa Verde."

Noah turned his attention back to the road. He wasn't all that worried about Dean going after Claire. He would definitely call to check in before he even made a move on her. Dean was a Company dog, through and through. He followed orders; no matter how much he didn't like them. There were a few exceptions, but Noah didn't think that any of them applied in this case.

"What makes you think that something went wrong? He's capable. He always has been."

Bob shrugged, "Time. Its always time."

Noah nodded in understanding. Agents that went dark were required to check in before they moved location or acted on their assignments. Payphone calls or emails from public computers—things that couldn't be traced back to them. If an Agent failed to check in after several hours, they had either gone rogue or were killed; two scenarios which beckoned two responses.

If an agent went rogue, he had to be hunted down and exterminated. If the agent was killed, The Company needed to find out who killed him and hunt the man down. Being injured was never an excuse for not being able to check in.

Noah pushed down on the brakes slightly as he turned a corner. Things were only going to get more complicated from here on out. Noah found himself missing the days when everything was so simple in his life; when he followed orders and kept his family safe.

"Everything comes down to time," agreed Noah.

* * *

The man stood easily near the back of the crowd, not too far into the throng to be held back by the jostling reporters and not too far back to attract the attention of security or anyone else. It was just right for this kind of situation. 

He didn't expect any trouble or difficulty in reaching his goal. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that the psychic cop: Matt Parkman had used his ability to attract the total attention of everyone watching Nathan Petrelli speak, forcing them to hang onto his every word. The man almost chuckled; they were sheep, all of them. Maybe some of them weren't in their day-to-day lives, but right now, they were all the same.

The man forced his hands into his jacket pockets; his right encountering nothing but the soft, inner fabric; while his left encountered the smooth metal of a handgun.

He hadn't wanted to do this in the middle of a police station with a crowd full of reporters nearby. If he had gotten his way, he'd be on a rooftop somewhere with a long-range sniper rifle and scope. But orders were orders. They didn't want Nathan Petrelli dead unless absolutely necessary. If Nathan decided not to carry on with the plan he had conducted back in Primatech's vault, he'd be safe. If not, well, there'd be one less special in the world.

The man curled his fingers around the slightly warm handle of the gun. Despite his orders, he had been reluctant to agree to this assignment; it wasn't because of the risk. Matt Parkman had erased all his fears of being caught or discovered. No one had even noticed the odd-shaped bulge in his jacket pocket. The man shrugged; _maybe I'm getting soft?_ He thought. He almost shook his head in denial. _No, that's not it._

His head perked up as Nathan Petrelli began speaking what was obviously the final part of his speech. The entire air in the room seemed to shift with tension and anticipation.

The man listened intently to Nathan's words. If Nathan was going to expose the specials, it would be here. The man positioned the gun inside his pocket, making sure he was ready to pull it out and fire on the unsuspecting former congressman.

"…I'm here to tell you the truth." Nathan said from his position on the platform.

The man sighed in disappointment and carefully pulled the handgun out of his pocket. _I'm sorry, Nathan_, he thought apologetically, _you've forced our hand_.

"I have the ability to—" The man raised his gun and fired. Two hisses erupted out of the gun, the silencer dulling all notable noise from the shots. The bullets impacted against Nathan's chest, making him stagger back as two red stains began to leak across his shirt.

The assassin swore under his breath. The shots hadn't hit Nathan where he had meant them to. He didn't have time for another shot and even if he did, he didn't have a target to aim at. Nathan had fallen back and was now being held by his brother on the platforms floor.

The assassin turned and began to make his way through the panicking crowd. He didn't have much time to make his getaway. And it wasn't like he could run either. Running attracted attention, everyone with a little experience in this area knew that.

He didn't bother turning his head to have another look behind him. There was no way to know whether he had killed Nathan Petrelli, at least not by a quick glance back.

He sighed and rounded a corner, heading away from the scene and towards the police station's exit.

* * *

Dean immediately felt like he was being torn in half. He flinched in pain as the whirling vortex of the Space/Time Continuum sucked him in. It felt like he was being dragged away from where he really wanted to go; a game of tug-of-war he was steadily losing. 

His insides twisted uncomfortably as his entire world seemed to spin; rapidly at first, then slowing down to a dizzying cycle. Dean wondered if Hiro experienced this every time he teleported. If he did, Dean would have been surprised if he teleported at all. The dizzying feelings were enough to make Dean feel like vomiting.

Dean slowly opened his eyes as the twisting sensations suddenly died. He was immediately startled by a world lacking colour. Everything was either tonal greys or pure white. Wherever he was, he knew it wasn't Costa Verde.

_Good one, Dean!_ He thought sardonically. _How many times have you told yourself never to use newly absorbed powers!_

Dean shook his head and looked closer at his surroundings. The absence of colour was truly startling; Dean had never seen a blander place in his entire life, not even the cells back in Hartsdale compared to it. He could see a grey building right in front of him, along with lengths of barb-wired fences surrounding the building and the concrete pavement. The place looked like a prison. And he was inside it.

His head snapped around as a familiar accented voice reached his ears. He knew he had heard the voice not too long ago, but he just couldn't fit a face to the sound. He turned around to face the woman. Brown curls framed her face, the colour only matched by her deep brown eyes.

"You're new, aren't you?" the woman asked. "Did you just transfer here from up north? Come on, everyone else is inside, they think it's gonna rain."

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise as he finally knew where he had seen the woman before. "Caitlin?" Dean asked, peering down at her face.

Caitlin frowned and looked at Dean curiously; it was obvious her mind was trying to make the same connections that his had. "Dean?" she said incredulously. "How'd you get here? Foreigners were deported straight away."

"Foreigners? What— where are we?"

"Dublin," replied Caitlin, "In one of the last quarantines left here."

"Quarantine?" Dean said sceptically.

"You don't know?" Caitlin sounded surprised. "How can you not? I thought everyone knew."

"Knew what?"

Caitlin looked at him sympathetically and pointed towards a board on the side of the building. Dean was surprised he missed the bold red lettering on his initial sweep of his surroundings.

He walked towards the board, aware of Caitlin walking at his side. He suddenly began to feel sick as read the board's contents aloud. "Quarantine. Report any suspicion of the Shanti Virus to your nearest HASMAT team…"

Dean broke off, not bothering to read the rest of the board. The stray thought that had been plaguing him ever since he had arrived in this bleak environment suddenly appearing in greater force. "Caitlin, what date is it?"

Caitlin looked at him in surprise, "June 10th, 2008."

Dean took a step back, looking at Caitlin in wide-eyed shock. "What? No! It was April! April, 2007."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Caitlin said unhappily. "A month ago I'd have agreed with you, but…"

Dean shook his head in denial, "No, no, no, no; this isn't happening."

Caitlin smiled sympathetically, "I know how you feel. I felt like that as well, but now..."

Dean didn't answer. He knew that he had practically no control over newly obtained abilities—but teleporting a year into the future?! "Oh, no."

Caitlin patted his shoulder comfortingly, "Welcome to hell."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me this far. The sequel is now posted. The sequel is called 'The Tale Continues' and will pick off where this and Volume 2: Generations left off. So look out for that. 

Anyway, thanks for reading this fic. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (Though writing chapters 13, 15 and 16 felt like I was pulling my teeth out…)


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